


Wicked Games

by mcnegan



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Blood, Blood and Injury, Borderline Physical Abuse, Character Death, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Implied/Referenced Depression, Inappropriate Use of a Baseball Bat, JDM, Jeffrey Dean Morgan - Freeform, Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Torture, Violence, pregnancy loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:01:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 69,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28073610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcnegan/pseuds/mcnegan
Summary: An unexpected game of pool with a leather-clad killer quickly lands you behind the 8-ball.
Relationships: Negan (Walking Dead)/You
Comments: 3
Kudos: 29





	1. Sucker Shot

**Author's Note:**

> (This is a re-post as I previously deleted this story and it also appears on AO3 as an orphaned work.)
> 
> **When Negan challenges you to a game of billiards, you make a bad move that’s going to cost you.**

**suck·er shot /səkər SHät/**  
**_noun_  
1\. [In billiards]: A shot that only a novice or fool would take; usually because it is a guaranteed scratch or other foul and is likely to leave the opponent in a good position, resulting in a loss of the game.**

You can’t remember a single time in your life when you hated a person more than you hate Rosita. Since joining up with Rick’s group, the obnoxious girl has been on your last nerve. Everyone else seemed to find amusement in her feisty attitude and sharp tongue, though you can’t find one redeeming quality about her. She’s disrespectful and reckless, always running her mouth and seemingly getting herself into unnecessary trouble. Everything about her makes you want to grab her stupid pigtails and strangle her with them. Being the bigger person, you’re always sure to keep your distance from her, doing all you can to prevent any issue between the two of you.

Tabling your hatred for the girl, you stand among the crowd with your fellow community members, entranced by the scene unfolding before you. In the middle of the street, the evil and cruel leader of the Saviors stands patiently as his men drag the dusty pool table out of the garage attached to one of the houses lining the street. From his fingers dangles a half-empty bottle of scotch and his other hand is wrapped around his infamous barbed bat. Beside him, Spencer stands awkwardly, cradling two highball glasses as Negan’s men collect the balls on the pool table to rack them. A Savior walks over and hands a cue stick to both Negan and Spencer before everyone moves away to spectate the game.

From your position a few feet away, you can’t make out the words of the conversation flowing between the two men playing the game, but you’re relieved that the tone of said conversation seems to be casual and amicable. Negan sips occasionally from the glass clasped in his long fingers, watching Spencer take each shot and carefully determining his own moves. The two men continue talking and before long, Spencer’s body language gives away that he’s becoming increasingly uncomfortable.

Something he’s said clearly rubbed Negan the wrong way and you can tell that Spencer is desperately trying to backpedal. It’s already too late though; once Negan’s good opinion of someone is gone, it’s gone for good. The entire group around you begins to shuffle nervously, evidently registering the tension forming between the two men everyone is focused on. When Negan strolls in Spencer’s direction with a wide grin and steps into his personal space, everyone watching waits with bated breath.

You can’t make out Negan’s words, but you know they’re delivered with a vicious hiss as he reaches for the frighteningly large knife dangling off his belt and thrusts it into Spencer’s abdomen. A collective gasp emanates from the crowd gathered around the scene, though no one seems eager to rush forward and offer their help. With the raised volume of his voice, you can now hear Negan’s chilling words.

“How embarrassing! There they are! They were inside you the whole time,” Negan announces enthusiastically. “You _did_ have guts! I’ve never been so wrong in my whole life!”

Negan turns slightly to study the small group of people watching, the eerie grin now entirely gone from his face. His thick brows are furrowed deeply over his eyes and the obvious anger displayed on his face is somewhat worrying. You glance to your right and observe several people crying and a few others holding their hands over their mouths in shock. Your eyes flit forward to Rosita and though you can only see her back, you can see how heavily she’s breathing. Whether it’s out of fear or anger, you aren’t sure, but you find yourself hoping she isn’t stupid enough to act on her emotions.

“Someone better get up here and clean this mess up,” Negan demands, though no one seems brave enough to move a single muscle and obey.

Suddenly Negan’s notorious grin returns to his face and he holds his bat out, pointing to the line of shocked people waiting for his next move. “Oh! Anyone wanna finish the game?” he offers happily. “C'mon, I was winning!”

The gleeful tone of Negan’s words as he stands over the dead body of your compatriot is disturbing on so many levels. For a moment, you consider stepping forward to continue the game. You aren’t sure whether Negan’s request is serious, but if he truly wants someone else to finish the game, you’re willing to appease the man to save your friends from any further punishment.

Before you have a chance to voice your compliance to the tall man waiting by the pool table, a small movement from the corner of your eye catches your attention. As if moving in slow motion, you watch in horror as Rosita raises her right arm, a pistol gripped tightly in her hand. You’re torn between relief that someone is going to kill Negan and horror that Rosita is the one attempting to do it.

Maybe you’re biased due to your dislike of the girl, but you have little faith in her ability to succeed with the task at hand. You don’t have a chance of even hoping to stop her when the booming explosion of a firing bullet echoes through the air. The gunshot is followed by a deafening crack and you quickly shift your eyes to the intended target of Rosita’s bullet.

Going by the mere fact that Negan remains standing, your fears of Rosita’s ineptitude have all come true. After a moment of shock, Negan’s face shifts from baffled to enraged with frightening speed. He observes the bullet embedded in his precious bat before striding towards the girl still holding up the gun with sheer ire written on every feature of his face.

“Fuck! What the _fuck_!” he roars as one of his Saviors tackles Rosita to the ground and rips the gun from her small hand. “You just tried to fuckin’ kill me?!”

Negan paces angrily like a caged lion, trying and failing to calm himself as he walks back and forth across the pavement. All the while, a litany of violent threats and obscenities spills from his lips as he only manages to grow angrier and angrier. Finally gathering himself, he turns his attentions back on the small group and you find yourself stepping behind a taller man to hide yourself from Negan’s searing gaze.

A moment of tense silence engulfs you all before Negan barks a command to the Savior pinning Rosita to the ground and orders her to kill someone. You gasp in fear as Rosita screams and tries to stop the oncoming murder, but before anyone can do anything, the curly-haired woman raises her gun, aiming it in the direction of one of the houses and fires a shot. You whip your head around, horrified by the woman’s accuracy as you see Olivia’s limp body falling to the porch.

With that, Negan announces that he’s going to be sticking around to keep an eye on everything here and demands that everyone go about their business. You stand frozen to the spot as the man passes by you on his way into one of the houses, his golden eyes burning into you for several uncomfortable seconds until he moves past you. Releasing a rush of air from your lungs, you feel weak in the knees as you flee from the area. As you walk past Rosita, she drags herself off the ground and back onto her feet. Overcome with anger, you can’t help lashing out at her as you walk by.

“You’re going to get us all killed, you stupid bitch,” you snap icily.

Rosita opens her mouth to fire back with some snotty response, but the scathing glare you level on her shuts her up. She knows she’s at fault for what just happened. Leaving her behind with one final dirty look, you stride speedily to the safety of the house you reside in. The second you’re inside, you slam the door shut and ensure it’s locked securely. The small deadbolt doesn’t do much in the way of making you feel safe, but at least you can hide out here until things settle and Negan finally decides to leave.

• • • • • • • • • •

When darkness falls, you decide to take the chance and venture out of the safety of your tiny house. Before walking out the front door, you grab a small switchblade and tuck it into your back pocket, just in case. Peering around the door, you check that the coast is clear before you step out onto your porch and head down the stairs. As much as you want to stay hidden, you’ve never been able to stay put for long. It had taken less than a few hours for you to grow antsy. Using the veil of darkness to your advantage, you stroll aimlessly down the empty streets of Alexandria.

The humid air around you is sticky, damp, and decidedly still. It seems suspiciously quiet and you find yourself wondering if Negan and his men have left. You don’t spot a single soul out and about, so you can only assume that they’d done just that. When you reach the dead end of the street, you spot the pool table still standing in the middle of the paved path. Glancing over your shoulder, you make absolutely sure no one is around before you close in on the table and snatch up a cue stick.

Testing the weight of the light wooden stick, you circle the table, reaching into each pocket to extract the colorful balls. You gather all 15 spheres, shoving them into the wooden frame of the rack before centering the cue ball. It’s been years since you’ve played a game of pool, that much is obvious when your weak shot barely manages to break the gathering of balls. You shift languidly around the edges of the table, taking shot after shot until you’ve managed to pocket almost half the balls. You’re concentrating so much on the game that you don’t hear the approaching footsteps until it’s too late.

“Gotta love a girl who can play some 8-ball,” a deep voice rasps from over your shoulder. “Mind if I join you?”

You whip around quickly, your wide eyes falling on the leather-clad chest of Negan as he approaches and closes the distance between you. Before you have a chance to deny his request and run for your life, Negan has picked up the second cue stick and is resetting the rack of balls against the felt-topped table. You swallow thickly, suddenly uncomfortably aware that you are out here alone in the dark with a cold-blooded murderer.

“You wanna take the first shot?” Negan offers, chuckling slightly when you shake your head adamantly. “I wouldn’t be a gentleman if I didn’t ask.”

Following Negan’s break shot, you step up to the table, trying to calm your shaking hands as you take your turn. You barely bother trying to line up your aim, merely snapping your cue against the white ball and hoping you pocket something so you can get this game over with as soon as possible. After several minutes of merciful silence, Negan finally opens his mouth and you grow nauseous at the prospect of having to converse with this man.

“You like livin’ here?” he asks simply, staring intently at you as he waits for an answer.

“It’s uh, it’s fine, I guess,” you stutter nervously, refusing to make eye contact with him.

Negan snorts softly at your response and you feel yourself begin to shake as he rounds the table and approaches you. “I could give you a much better life, you know. All you have to do is say yes,” he whispers as he closes the distance between you and presses his hips against yours to pin you against the edge of the table. “You could be one of my wives. I sure wouldn’t mind having a pretty little thing like you around to fuck whenever I so please.”

You gasp sharply at Negan’s growled words, finally snapping your eyes up to his. The smug, dirty grin across his wide lips infuriates you and you suddenly remember the knife tucked in your back pocket. On a whim, you decide you’re going to finish what Rosita was unable to do. You’re going to kill Negan and save your friends from his wrath. Moving as subtly as possible, you dig your fingers into your pocket and slip the knife out. You press the button to release the blade and in an instant, you’ve lifted your arm to slash the blade across Negan’s throat.

Before you can make contact with the thick column of Negan’s neck, he has a hand wrapped firmly around your wrist with bone crushing force. The smile splashed across his face only minutes ago is long gone and is now replaced with a displeased and vengeful grimace. He moves with impressive speed, bending you backwards at a painful angle to pin your wrist against the table.

Negan squeezes your slender wrist so hard that you cry out and you’re forced to release the knife you hold tightly. The second you drop it, Negan uses his free hand to toss the weapon out of your reach. He wastes no time wrapping that hand around your throat, pushing his torso against yours and causing a searing pain along your spine as he increases the angle at which you’re bent backwards.

“I’m real sick of you uncooperative motherfuckers trying to kill me today,” Negan snarls, drops of saliva pelting your face. “Gonna be a real shame to waste a fine piece of ass like you darlin’.”

You squirm violently in Negan’s grip, desperate to get away from him any way you can. Your movement only makes Negan tighten his unrelenting hold on you, crushing both your sore wrist and your delicate throat with his impressive strength. With the gloved hand wrapped so restrictively around your windpipe, you have no chance of begging for your life so you merely stare up at Negan with doleful eyes and hope he’ll take mercy on you as you continue to flail.

“Keep wiggling around like a scared little animal and it’s gonna make it hard for me to kill you,” Negan chuckles mockingly. “Though that’s not the only thing it’s making hard.”

Negan’s words are accompanied by a harsh thrust of his hips and you immediately feel the solid length of him pressing into your thigh. You squeeze your eyes shut and try to turn your face away, too ashamed to continue looking at him. You cease your frantic movements immediately, hoping your submission will make Negan back off. Unfortunately, it does the exact opposite.

“You want it bad, don’t you?” Negan implores lowly, continuing to grind against you. “I can see it in your eyes, you need a man to pin you down and fuck you.”

When Negan slides the hand threaded around your throat down your chest and grips your breast firmly, you begin to wriggle again, trying to deflect his lustful advances. Knowing you can’t escape his strong hands, you try to distract him instead.

“Please, Negan. I’m…I’m sorry,” you plead.

“Not yet you aren’t. But you will be,” he assures you. “You’re gonna show me _exactly_ how sorry you are.”

He falls silent after that, his eyes cold and unyielding as he stares you down for a long moment. When he finally lets go of your wrist and takes a step back, you react instantly and impulsively. Pitching forward, you right yourself and use the momentum of your quick shift to swing your fist into Negan’s cheek with jarring force. Taking advantage of his momentary shock, you duck under the arm he had braced beside your body and try to get away.

You make it only a few steps before your body is yanked back by the hair and Negan drags you face first over the table. Your hands fly out to stop your stumbling body, but you still smash your chest and chin into the table, crying out before Negan uses his steely grip on your hair to press your cheek into the felt surface of the pool table.

“That was real fuckin’ stupid, sweetheart,” he growls dangerously, leaning his weight over top of you and practically crushing your skull against the solid surface beneath you. ”You got balls of steel, I’ll give you that. However, that shit doesn’t fly with me so I’m thinkin’ you need a little reminder about who’s in charge here.”

Negan’s body shifts above you and you begin to panic when you see him reaching for your discarded knife. He pays no attention to your resumed efforts to escape, only holds you down as he wraps his fingers around the handle of the knife and sighs in agitation. Your blood runs cold when you feel the sharp tip of the blade pressed into the soft flesh of your right hip.

“I suggest you stay still…wouldn’t wanna cut up any of that pretty skin of yours,” Negan purrs.

He removes the knife from your side only to press it against the back of your thigh. You feel the sharp point dragging upwards and scratching across the sensitive skin. Every muscle from the waist down tightens anxiously as you struggle not to move, lest you risk injuring yourself. Negan continues moving the knife higher until it catches along the hem of your denim shorts. He tucks the edge of the blade under the material before yanking up and out, effectively slicing a gash from your thigh to your hip, almost cutting the article of clothing in half. He repeats the action on the other side and though you feel fear, you can’t deny the niggling sensation of arousal deep in your core at Negan’s dominant behavior.

From the corner of your eye, you see Negan drop the knife on the edge of the table and you breathe a sigh of relief. That relief is short-lived when Negan pulls harshly against your torn shorts and rips the tattered material right off your body. Still bent over the table without the pressure of Negan’s hands, you realize you’re standing there in just your underwear and you move to cover yourself.

“Not so fast,” Negan warns, slamming your torso back onto the pool table.

His booted feet kick roughly against yours, forcing you to widen your stance and angle your hips towards the man positioned behind you. You can feel the heat of Negan’s palms coasting under your thin t-shirt and over the soft skin of your back, pushing the material higher and higher.

With your lower half almost completely exposed, you still feel uncomfortable and desperate to get away. Negan finally puts a stop to your squirming with several sharp slaps across your ass. The force of his hits stings through the lacy material of your panties and with a small whimper, you stop moving. That is until Negan pushes his fingers against your heated core from behind.

“Goddamn, that’s a fuckin’ hot pussy,” he proclaims, bracing a forearm against your lower back as he massages you through your underwear. “Fuckin’ wet, too.”

“Please, Negan,” you beg, unsure whether you’re asking him to stop or to keep going.

“Please what?” he barks. “Don’t act like you don’t want this, you’ve practically soaked through your slutty little underwear.”

The feeling of Negan’s fingers moving faster against your dripping lips prevents you from arguing his point. You find yourself pushing back against his exploring fingers, your whole body alight with shame as your hips shift uncontrollably. A tiny moan escapes your lips and Negan takes that as a sign to push you further. He pulls your panties to the side, sweeping his fingertips through your sodden folds before plunging two thick fingers deep into your throbbing pussy. You can’t control the sharp scream that races past your lips, prompting Negan to slap a wide palm over your mouth to silence the sound.

“Shh, baby,” he coos. “You don’t want anyone to come outside and see you getting fingerfucked by big, bad Negan, right?”

With the hand pressed forcefully against your face you can’t respond verbally and all you manage is a vague nod. Tears prickle in your eyes as Negan pounds his fingers into your traitorous body. The wet sounds blossoming from between your thighs seems to echo through the empty night air and you desperately want to cover your ears to escape the embarrassing reminder of the way you submitted so easily to Negan’s assault.

Before long, your thighs begin to quiver and your body clenches around Negan’s pumping fingers. He can sense how close you are to your climax and promptly presses his thumb against your swollen clit. Your reaction is instantaneous as you curl in on yourself and your core releases a flood of moisture over Negan’s hand, coating his fingers and palm in your cream. He massages his soaked palm against your folds and over your ass, leaving a smear of liquid behind as he braces himself on his elbows and leans over to whisper in your ear.

“Cherish that because it’s the only time you’ll be allowed to cum tonight,” he hisses, his hot breath fanning over your damp face.

Mulling over his cruel words, the next thing you’re aware of is the sound of his belt jingling as he unbuckles it and pulls the thick leather out of the loops of his pants. Still not moving from the position Negan left you in, he has easy access to your wrists and he quickly wraps his leather belt around your arms, binding them together in front of you and leaving you to lean your weight on your elbows.

You can hear the telltale sound of a zipper lowering before Negan lets out a deep grunt and you brace yourself for what’s coming next. He holds his hand out in front of your face and you expect him to cover your mouth with it again before his gruff voice reaches your ears.

“Spit,” he commands, moving his palm closer expectantly.

You obey, though do so hesitantly as you gather what little saliva you can before spitting the wet glob into Negan’s hand. He retracts his arm and moves closer to you, spreading your feet even further apart. You feel the warm, fleshy tip of his dick against your thigh and hear the sound of him using his spit-coated hand to slick his length. When Negan puts his hand in front of your face again, he doesn’t bother asking you to spit, but rather shoves his two middle fingers between your lips and covers them in your saliva before jerking his hand away.

A line of drool dribbles slowly down your chin and the salty taste of Negan lingers on your tongue as he uses his lubricated fingers to dive inside your entrance and prepare your body for his ministrations. You realize Negan’s preparation is pointless as your pussy is already gushing, your juices dripping down your thighs, which Negan notices the moment he touches you.

“Look at you, your pussy is already begging to be fucked,” he snarls as he shoves a finger into you roughly. “You’re just a dirty little whore, aren’t you?”

Before you can respond to Negan’s demeaning words, he pulls his hand away and pushes the head of his manhood against your oozing hole. You don’t dare move, only bracing yourself as Negan eases every inch of his unexpectedly thick shaft into your pliable body until his hips are flush against yours. An uncontrollable wave of arousal courses through you and your walls clench around Negan, causing him to groan loudly and dig his fingertips brutally into your soft hips.

“Fuck, you’re tight as shit,” he rasps deeply. “When was the last time you had your pussy stuffed this full of cock?”

You don’t respond, assuming Negan’s question had been rhetorical. When he grips your chin tightly to tilt your head back and thrusts harshly into you, you know he expects an answer. He repeats his question once more and you know you have to respond.

“It’s been…so long,” you moan, hating the breathy sound of your own voice as Negan thrusts slow and deep into you.

“Bet my huge cock feels good, doesn’t it? Doesn’t it?” he asks, accentuating the repeated question with a particularly forceful driving of his hips that causes you to screech your confirmation. “I should pound your little pussy until you’re screaming. Let everyone know what a cock-loving slut you are. How would your friends feel when they see you creaming all over the enemy’s dick, huh?” he taunts.

“You’re an asshole,” you bite out, resting your head against your bound wrists as Negan fucks you brutally, showing absolutely no concern for your comfort or pleasure as he uses your willing body.

“So what’s that make you, sweetheart? You’re the one fucking me,” Negan laughs coldly. “You fuckin’ love it, don’t you? I know you do, you’re so fuckin’ wet right now.”

Barely restrained squeals pour from your parted lips as Negan pummels your body vigorously. He grips your hair and yanks your head back painfully while shoving his thumb into your mouth as his hips slam powerfully into yours. Tears spill down your face as pleasure rips through you and you give in fully to Negan’s ravenous hunger for your body. The push and pull of Negan’s cock overwhelms you with ecstasy and you find yourself rushing headlong into a staggering orgasm. A long keening wail flows from your mouth and your entire body shakes, but just as you’re about to fall over the edge, Negan immediately slows his ruthless pace.

You groan in displeasure as he hammers violently into your body but at a pace too slow and spaced out for you to achieve your much-needed climax. When Negan’s hips begin to falter, you hope that his own quest for release will have him forgetting his promise that you wouldn’t cum again, but you’re wrong. Pulling out of your slippery channel, he grips your arm in one hand and his dick in the other, pumping his fist feverishly as he drags you to the ground.

“On your fuckin’ knees,” he orders as your bony knees land painfully against the solid pavement.

You glance up at Negan as he jerks his impressive length, finally getting a good look at how big he actually is. Instinctively, you open your mouth and stick your tongue out in expectation for his release. Much to your surprise, Negan reaches out with his free hand and grabs your chin, snapping your mouth shut with a perverted grin. Within seconds, he unleashes an animalistic roar as the first stream of cum splashes across your cheek. Several more spurts land along your sealed lips, across the bridge of your nose, and over your closed eyelids as Negan paints your face in his seed.

He pants in satisfaction as he towers over your kneeling form, shaking the remnants of his orgasm from the tip of his dick and letting it drop onto your debauched visage. With a vile and shameless laugh, Negan sweeps his thumb through one of the creamy globs coating your face. He drags it across your cheek and presses his moistened thumb against your mouth until you part your lips and allow him to slip the slick digit against your tongue, forcing you to taste him.

“Well now, that is a real pretty picture,” he crows proudly as he glances at you half naked and on your knees; observing the cum dripping off your nose and chin as well as the hungry, wanton, and needy fire still smoldering in your eyes.

With that, Negan shoves his softened member back into his pants and fixes his attire as he reaches down to release his belt from around your wrists. He offers only a lascivious wink and a sinful smile before turning away and disappearing into the night, leaving you shaking with arousal, your body smeared in a combination of various fluids. Suddenly feeling filthy and humiliated, you use the hem of your t-shirt to wipe the cum and tears off your face before pulling the short garment over your lower half to cover yourself as you scamper back home.

When you run past the godforsaken pool table, you spot a figure looming in the shadows. You recognize the hat and pigtails immediately, fury and dread causing a pit to open in your stomach. Not wanting to let Rosita judge you for whatever she saw or thinks she saw, you jut your chin out confidently and stare her down as you pass by. The look you level at her sends a clear message depending on how much she’d witnessed – you either confirmed that, yes, you just fucked the enemy, or you just wordlessly told her to go fuck herself.


	2. Dead Shot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Negan makes his return to the community and you make a life or death decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This is a re-post as I previously deleted this story and it also appears on AO3 as an orphaned work.)

**dead stroke /ded strōk/  
_noun_  
1\. A billiard term that refers to being in a zone where you can make no mistake and your play appears automatic and confident.  
2\. A move performed at peak playing level without any conscious effort or thought.**

Following your encounter with Negan, you’ve become wrought with paranoia and guilt. You find yourself constantly wondering just how much Rosita witnessed of your little rendezvous with the leather-clad antagonist.

On top of that, you’ve shut yourself away in your claustrophobic house, trying to avoid every member of the community. You’re sure that your ignominy is written all over your face and it would take no more than a single look for your friends to guess what you’ve done. Illogical as it is, your fear of discovery keeps you from showing your face; merely opting to lie low and hope Rosita isn’t petty enough to let anyone in on what she saw or what she thinks she saw.

Amid your remorse-fueled hibernation, the very source of your turmoil makes his return. The cargo trucks rumble through Alexandria early one hot afternoon, announcing the unwelcome arrival of Negan and his Saviors. It’s the day of their scheduled weekly collection and though not a necessity for you to come out, something tells you your absence isn’t going to go unnoticed by the obnoxious man — not after what happened between the two of you.

Sucking up your desire to avoid Negan at all costs, you dress in a gray tank top and loose cargo pants before slipping on your boots and trudging to the door. A rush of air leaves your lungs as you mentally prepare yourself for whatever is going to happen out there and when you reach for the knob, a sharp knock echoes against the door. Furrowing your brow, you wrench the door open, eyes flitting over the grimy man standing in front of you.

“Negan wants to talk…everyone outside. Now,” the unpleasant man demands, stepping aside as he gestures for you to come outside.

With the hulking man behind you, you drag your feet, walking as slow as you can as you join the group gathering in the street. From the rear of the small crowd, you spot the tall, lithe man — swinging his bat in wide, graceful arcs. 

Negan paces in slow circles, staring off into the distance with a mindless smile as he waits for the members of Alexandria to line up to hear whatever His Royal Highness has to say. Worried that Negan’s keen senses will prompt him to hone in on you, you obscure your smaller frame behind a group of young men waiting for Negan’s oration.

Before long, Negan seems satisfied with his audience and launches into one of his customary monologues. Most of it is cocky, narcissistic bullshit and fear-mongering threats designed to scare your people into cooperation. You stare down at the gravel beneath your feet, kicking at pebbles as you pretend to listen to anything Negan has to say. Everyone here knows that he holds all the cards and his need to make a point of reminding you all is just exhausting by now.

When Negan finally stops prattling on, you find that the crowd is beginning to disperse and you make your escape. Walking rapidly, you head to a distant corner of the community and climb onto the back porch of one of the empty homes. Curling up in an uncomfortable lawn chair, you bring your knees to your chest as you wait out your visitors. The sound of quick footfalls catches your attention and you hunker down, uselessly trying to hide behind the railing of the porch. You’re relieved when the figure that rounds the corner isn’t Negan, however, this option isn’t much better.

“What’s the matter? Didn’t wanna say hi to your boyfriend?” Rosita bites out from the base of the porch steps, a nasty sneer across her face. “Or were you afraid he’d see you and spill the beans about what a whore you are?”

Not feeling up to listening to Rosita’s whiny voice today, you roll your eyes and climb to your feet. Refusing to react to her taunt, you clomp down the stairs and move to walk past her, though she stops you with a firm hand around your arm.

“Don’t touch me,” you hiss, whirling around to stand toe to toe with her.

“How could you do it?” she wonders in disgust. “After what he did to Glenn and Abraham and Olivia?”

Considering her words for a moment, you admit Rosita has a valid point. You understand that Negan is a sadistic bastard, but you can’t help feeling that his actions were justified. Cruel, heinous, and a bit of an over-reaction, yes, but still…justified. Rick had ambushed and killed a plethora of Negan’s men without provocation and he’d retaliated by only killing two of your people; Olivia was collateral for Rosita’s attempt to kill Negan.

Seeing the gears turning in your head, Rosita realizes that you don’t share in her notion that Negan is the devil himself and she snaps. Cocking her toned arm back, she swings forward and cracks her fist across your jaw. Your head whips around and your ears ring with the sharp pain zinging across your face. Cradling your injured jaw, you turn back to Rosita, your expression a mix of disbelief and hatred.

“I’m gonna tell Rick,” she whispers icily. “He’s gonna know what a traitorous bitch you are. And if he won’t do something, I’ll just kill you myself.”

Between the stun from the force of her hit and the shock from the weight of her words, you lack the wherewithal to respond to Rosita. Turning on her heel, she stomps away, leaving you to stand alone and contemplate her words. Rage boils within you as you replay her warning over and over in your mind. While she may be a useless and pretentious bitch, Rosita’s threat isn’t an idle one. If Rick doesn’t take you out, she surely will. Suddenly, you feel as though you’re no longer safe in your own community.

Moving away from your original hiding spot, you circle the perimeter of the Alexandria until you reach a more adequate place to camp out until it’s safe for you to come out. Spotting a rusty old school bus, you climb through the open rear door and settle just above the bumper. Your legs swing aimlessly as you observe the surrounding cars that several members of the community have been working on making operational again.

You don’t hear the crunching footsteps until it’s too late and Negan emerges from amongst the junkyard of vehicles. He strolls leisurely towards you; hands empty, face full of mischief. His devious smile only seems to grow in intensity when you move to drop to the ground but he manages to stop you. With his chest pressed to the front of your knees to hold you in place, Negan glances up at you, trying to appear innocent as he studies your tense visage.

“Hi there,” he drawls, his voice sickly sweet. “Miss me, darlin’?”

Cringing at his words and the tone with which he speaks them, you’re unsure how to respond to Negan’s jeer. On one hand, telling him no is likely going to earn you some sort of punishment from the egotistical man. On the other hand, saying yes will only serve to make your life a living hell as Negan will never leave you alone once he believes you give a shit about him.

Opting to remain silent, you merely raise your eyebrows, a noncommittal and vague response. You dare not piss Negan off, but you can’t risk leading him to believe you have any interest in associating with him.

“I hardly recognized you without a knife in your hand, trying to kill me,” Negan states, swiftly changing the subject.

He grins widely at you, though the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. The ever-present looming danger glowing behind his amber irises is eerie and unsettling. You swallow thickly, feeling more and more antsy over this interaction. Negan senses your anxiety and chuckles lightly at it, solidifying your belief that he is in fact a complete bastard.

Clearly wanting to push you further to revel in your discomfort, Negan settles his hands atop your thighs, running them slowly up and down your dark pants. He continues watching you closely, though you zero in on something in the distance, refusing to meet his eyes.

“I missed you,” Negan murmurs sarcastically, returning to his earlier topic of conversation. “Missed that tight little pussy, too, that’s for damn sure.”

Squirming uncomfortably beneath the contact of Negan’s palms, you clench your thighs together, denying him access as his touch ventures towards your center. Still not looking at him, you stop moving, hoping your lack of a reaction will convince Negan to halt his teasing and leave you alone. Knowing him, that’s asking for too much, and Negan’s next words support that thought.

“Why don’t you hop on down here and talk to me face-to-face, sweetheart?” he implores jovially.

Much as you abhor the idea, you know you’re fully expected to obey. Negan had phrased his statement as a suggestion, but it’s nothing less than a demand — you don’t actually have a choice. Sighing softly, you scoot forward and jump to the ground below. 

Negan doesn’t bother stepping back, leaving almost no room between your bodies when your feet reach the soft dirt beneath you. You stare straight ahead, paying particular attention to the threads that make up Negan’s thin white t-shirt while silently praying for this confrontation to end.

“You give any thought to the offer I made you before you tried to cut my head off?” Negan wonders.

“What offer?” you ask, finally looking up to meet Negan’s gaze.

“Come back with me. Be one of my wives,” he answers plainly, leering at you.

Unable to stop your reaction, your face screws up in revulsion at the term — _one_ of his wives. You crane your neck and tilt your body away from Negan, wanting to put some distance between you but knowing better than to walk away from him before he’s done with you.

Negan snorts softly through his nose, entertained by your aversion to his offer. “Hmm, too soon, huh? Well, if you won’t accept my generous invitation, I think I deserve an apology at least. So I hope you’re very sorry about how you mistreated your _distinguished_ guest last time,” he taunts, the obvious amusement he’s gleaning from your distress is shining in his giddy voice.

“I’m sorry,” you state blandly, perturbed by his teasing and carelessly failing to hide the lack of sincerity in your words.

The snide smirk before you only falters slightly upon hearing your inadequate apology as Negan shifts his weight. “I do not think you are, I really don’t,” he proclaims. “I think I should _make_ you sorry. I think…you’re gonna have to work for my forgiveness.”

Growing increasingly nervous at the sudden lack of mockery in his voice, you wonder how Negan intends for you to acquire his pardon for your former behavior. He closes the microscopic distance between you and tips the upper half of his body sideways to gaze directly at your unhappy visage.

“I want you to show me you’re sorry. I want you to show me that you’ve learned to respect me,” he declares, his tone now dark and threatening.

Not giving you a chance to argue, Negan grabs your elbow and drags you away from the old bus behind you. Pushing you forward, he shoves you towards a faded, blue Pontiac, using enough force that you have to throw your palms in front of yourself to stop your momentum. Wrenching your body around to face him, Negan presses into you, your ass propped near the hood of the car.

“If you don’t want this, you better say so…right fuckin’ now,” he hisses at you.

Hearing no immediate rejection to his advances, Negan snorts sardonically, the burst of air blowing into your face. Though you’re still considering his offer for a way out of this, you find yourself hesitating to tell him no. Perhaps fraternizing with the enemy is not what one might call wise, but it’s not as if you have much else to lose these days. It’s the end of the world, is it so wrong to indulge, even if it is with an adversary? Before you can give it any more thought, Negan’s voice cuts through and interrupts your internal battle.

“Yeah,” he mutters self-assuredly upon witnessing the war you’re having with yourself. Somehow, the single syllable makes you feel small and pathetic for crumbling beneath Negan’s iron fist and giving in to your baser instincts.

Eager to move things along, Negan unfastens your pants and swiftly drops them along with your panties, wrestling your booted foot through one leg before leaving the article tangled around your other ankle. He unhooks his belt and loosens his pants, lowering them to his knees before his boots shuffle closer to you. Without warning, Negan tucks an arm beneath one of your legs and lifts your knee into the crook of his elbow before smoothly slipping every inch of his length into you.

You’re embarrassed that you’re wet enough for Negan’s dick to slide easily into you; mortified at the fact that Negan _knew_ you would be. Keeping up with your denial, you shut your eyes so as not to see what’s happening, though Negan seems not to notice as his own gaze is focused on the sight of his thick cock disappearing into your slick flesh.

Negan thrusts wildly into you, making sure each and every one of his thrusts drives home a clear message: he’s the one in control, he’s the one with the power. Cracking your eyes open, you dare to look at Negan. The sight of the bulging veins in his neck and the tension in is jaw as he ravages you causes a fresh wave of arousal to flood your body. The increase in moisture dripping from your center eases Negan’s way and makes his pummeling length so slippery, there’s almost no friction.

Unexpectedly, he withdraws and pulls out of your soaked pussy. An involuntary moan of protest slips from you and the sound instantly morphs into a gasp of surprise when Negan spins you round and traps you against his broad frame. His chest swells behind you with pants of exertion and his hand curves over your jaw as the pad of his thumb drags gently across your lower lip. The deceptively tender gesture paired with his softly-spoken words have you even more on edge, coiled with tension and suspense as you wait for the moment the savage beast you’ve come to know makes his appearance.

“Do you think you deserve to cum today?” Negan prompts, reminding you of how he’d denied you your orgasm during his previous visit. “Have you been a good girl?”

Shamefully desperate to have the heat and girth of Negan back between your thighs, you nod timidly. Your response is met with a constriction of Negan’s arms around your body and your chest heaves as your breathing picks up. Your senses are overwhelmed with the pressure of Negan’s imprisoning limbs, the spicy, musky scent of his body, and the sound of his growled words reaching your ears.

“Tell me,” he instructs firmly as he shoves you forward and bends you over the hood of the car. “Tell me why you deserve to cum.”

“I’ve been a good girl, Negan. Please let me cum,” you beg, hating the very sound of the phrases spilling from your parted lips.

Your shame is steadfastly forgotten when Negan makes his return between your legs. He braces a heated palm on your lower back as he shoves his swollen length up into you, sliding home in a single thrust. You walls clench tightly, your needy pussy squeezing the base of Negan’s cock as he throbs inside you. He begins a rhythm of steady, deep strokes, hitting all the right spots as he yanks your hips harshly into his own pelvis. Your hips slam into the surface of the car’s hood and you’re sure to have bruises come morning.

“Whose good girl? Whose fuckin’ good girl are you?” Negan barks, his humid breath swirling through your hair and ghosting over the flesh of your exposed shoulder.

“Yours! I’m your good girl, Negan,” you cry, forcing the words out through clenched teeth as Negan pounds frantically into your slick channel.

Embarrassingly enough, the moment you reach your noisy climax — your juices soaking Negan’s length as your body quivers around his driving cock — none other than Rosita steps into your line of sight. Her expression is one of repulsion and offense, though you can’t find it within yourself to give a single fuck.

“Oh, God,” you sigh in ecstasy as your body rocks against Negan’s and your orgasm tears through you.

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves an audience, sugar,” Negan announces in a bored tone.

The only indication that he’s reacting to the way your rippling core clenches his dick is a vague strain in his raspy words. Slowing his thrusts only slightly, the deep and languid strokes Negan keeps cause your knees to weaken and your eyes to roll as Rosita looks on in contempt. You send a mental thanks for the way the car you’re angled over hides your lower halves as you’re too far gone to have any semblance of dignity or concern for your partial nudity or the lewd act you’re currently engaged in with Negan.

“No gun this time, honey?” Negan calls, taunting Rosita and showing no concern for the intentional way she continues watching him pump his dripping length into you.

No sooner do the words leave his mouth than Rosita is pulling a gun from behind her, apparently having had it tucked into the back of her pants. Surprisingly enough, Negan still shows no obvious signs of ceasing his movements and the over-stimulation wracking your body makes it difficult for you to think straight. Finally coming down from your high, you process what’s happening and your body clenches in fear, finally producing a deep, throaty groan from Negan.

“Move or I’ll shoot you both,” Rosita demands, indicating for you to step away from Negan.

Negan offers only a cold chuckle to the brave girl’s words, not for a second believing that she’s capable of shooting either one of you. With a hand pressed to your back and his cock buried to the root inside you, you’re not entirely sure how Rosita expects you to make any sort of movement.

Sustaining his utter lack of interest in the deadly weapon trained on him, Negan carries on, driving his hips up into you with steady force as he addresses Rosita. 

“I do not appreciate being interrupted when I’m partaking in some real fine pussy. In fact, I find it to be…disrespectful. Be a doll and wait until I’m done fucking her, then we’ll talk.”

A deep, red blush colors your cheek at how casually Negan speaks in such a crass way – and about you, no less. Ignoring Rosita’s repeated command for you to separate so she can try to take him out, Negan wraps his long fingers about your throat as he leans over to whisper hotly in your ear.

“You gonna run, or are you gonna stay under me and wait for her to kill you, too?” he teases, clearly unbothered and not feeling in any way intimidated by the threat looming mere feet away.

Before you have a chance to answer, Negan takes your wrist and pulls your hand towards his torso, directing your hand inside his leather jacket until your fingers land on a hard object concealed in an inner pocket. Reaching inside, you feel cold, hard steel and you realize what you’re touching is a gun. Rosita takes a step closer — a clear warning — and you move swiftly, yanking the pistol from Negan’s jacket and bringing it around in front of you to aim at the pig-tailed bitch leveling her own weapon at the pair of you.

You cock the hammer of the weapon, warning Rosita that you’re just as serious as she is; Negan merely chuckles to himself, his movements now stopped. Your hands vibrate visibly, though as you recall Rosita’s hatred for you and her repetitive threats towards you, you steady your hold on the weapon and raise the gun to aim directly at her head. Time seems to slow down as you seriously consider the option to pull the trigger until Negan’s voice filters through the pulse pounding in your ears.

“Show me what a good girl you can be. Prove to me you deserve my forgiveness. Earn it,” he dictates.

It dawns on you that Negan wants you to kill Rosita as much as you want to kill her. Horrified, you realize that his few snarled words are encouraging you to do exactly that.

“Go ahead, baby. Shoot her,” he urges and you’re vaguely aware the the steady thrusting of his hips is growing hurried and more forceful, the situation unfolding before you seemingly exciting Negan.

Wasting no more time, you make up your mind and obey Negan’s instruction. Depressing the trigger, the pistol fires with a thunderous crack and the recoil jolts your entire body as Rosita slumps to a limp heap right before your eyes. A feral snarl rips from Negan’s throat as he crushes you to the cool metal of the vehicle’s hood. A particularly violent thrust rams you painfully into the car, accompanying the pulsing of his cock as he empties himself inside you.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Negan drawls, his words slipping out on a moan as he holds your hips against his until he finishes coating your walls with his hot seed. “That was some crazy shit, huh?” he chuckles, slipping his weapon from your clenching hand to tuck it into his jacket as he wipes his softening length on the back of your thigh and tucks himself into his pants.

“Whooo,” he hollers, clapping his hands enthusiastically as you awkwardly cover and redress yourself, trying to ignore the thick moisture already seeping through your underwear. You know there’s no right thing to say here, so you avoid eye contact with the sweaty-browed man towering over you, relieved when he turns his back and you can finally get away.

“Oh!” you hear him call and your steps halt immediately just as a hand closes around your wrist. “Ah ah ah, not so fast,” Negan chides with a wicked, toothy smile. “I almost forgot. You lost the option to choose. You’re coming back with me. As this little outburst has made crystal clear, me and your people still aren’t on the same page yet…so you and I are gonna make sure we get them there. _Together_ ,” he announces excitedly before dragging you past Rosita’s corpse, towards the caravan of trucks awaiting his return at the front gates.


	3. Avoidance Shot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In order to protect the community, you sacrifice yourself and agree to return to the Sanctuary with Negan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This is a re-post as I previously deleted this story and it also appears on AO3 as an orphaned work.)

**a·void·ance shot /əˈvoidəns SHät/**  
_**noun** _  
**1\. A shot where the cue ball’s path is controlled to avoid hitting surrounding balls.**

You practically trip over your own feet in an effort to keep up with Negan’s long strides. With his fingers wrapped around your wrist, he shows no concern for your struggling steps as he drags you discourteously to the front gate.

Along the way, you pass several of your comrades, their faces a picture of confusion as the enemy carts you along with him. It’s obvious that your friends want to say something, perhaps even stop Negan, but they know better. Their interference doesn’t do anyone any good; in fact, it’ll only make the situation worse.

“Rick!” Negan sings, spreading his arms in a facetiously friendly gesture before firmly patting your leader on the shoulder with his free hand. “We’re done here, so you’ll be happy to know we’ll be out of your hair in no time. This pretty little thing is coming with me.”

Turning to look at you, Rick’s eyes fill with anger and fear as he processes Negan’s words. You stare pointedly at the bearded man, your gaze begging him to do something. Negan watches the entire interaction and – like a predator waiting to pounce on it’s prey — he’s just hoping for Rick to open his mouth and give him another reason to punish your people. Much to your disappointment, you and Rick both know Negan’s game by now, and he chooses to remain silent.

Finished with his dramatics for the day, Negan is on the move again, pulling you with him. The panic is obvious in your expression as you have no choice but to follow. You turn back to the people you thought were your friends, glaring in disbelief as not a single one of them makes a move to help you.

Facing Negan in a community where you feel safe and surrounded with people who can protect you is one thing; being removed from here and forced to deal with Negan one-on-one is a whole other can of worms – one you have no interest in cracking open.

“Wait…wait!” you shriek fearfully, yanking against Negan’s grasp.

He whirls around instantly, refusing to release your arm no matter how much you try to escape.

“ _Don’t_ ,” he snarls, his characteristic smile missing from his expression. Negan’s tawny eyes bore into you, daring you to say another word or fight back. “I don’t wanna go hard making a point here, sweetheart. You people need to learn and this is the only way. So, if you know what’s good for you…I suggest you get your ass in that fuckin’ truck.”

Unable to stop yourself, a tear rolls down your cheek at Negan’s angry words. This is it. You have no other option but to go and no one can or will help you. Resigning yourself to your unfortunate fate, you hang your head and let Negan lead you to the first truck in the line of vehicles. He offers his hand to assist you inside, though you ignore the gesture and haul your form up into the front seat on your own. Negan merely smiles, settling in beside you and ensuring that the entire length of the right side of your body is pressed against him.

A mustached man joins you, turning the key in the ignition as the engine roars to life and the vehicle vibrates beneath you. You sniffle lightly as the truck rolls out of Alexandria and out onto the street. Glancing in the side-view mirror, you watch your friends and home fade into the distance as you’re driven towards your new place of residence.

You pay specific attention to the route the driver takes, keeping track of the distance you travel in the event that you need to know your way back to Alexandria. After several minutes, you realize that if you have to come back on foot, it’s going to be a long and grueling journey.

“You’re not gonna believe this place,” Negan announces proudly, interrupting your thoughts. “The Sanctuary is practically a fuckin’ palace.”

Not responding to Negan’s cocky statement and obvious glee, you continue looking steadfastly out the windshield. You have no idea what to expect of Negan’s home, though you hope you aren’t going to be miserable there. Perhaps not fighting back more and trying to prevent yourself from being kidnapped will prove to be a mistake, but you’re choosing to see this as a strategy. You just might manage to gather some intel that may be useful to your people in their war against Negan.

Confident in your belief that you can use this opportunity to the advantage of yourself and the Alexandrians, you reason that it won’t be too difficult to convince Negan to bring you back home eventually. Considering that you’re cooperating now, you’re sure that he’ll appreciate your compliance and will be willing to compromise and meet your request. Even if he doesn’t release you back to your people right away, at the very least you tell yourself that you’ll be allowed to accompany the Saviors on their next run to Alexandria. As long as your people cooperate as well, you expect you’ll be back home soon enough.

The halting of the vehicle brings your attention back to the present and you look around while the driver of the truck waits as the gate in front of you creaks open. You glance around, taking in the sight of the old factory coming into view as you cruise towards the building looming ahead. Eventually rolling to a stop, you follow Negan’s instruction and climb out of the cargo truck, jumping down into the dusty gravel as he grabs his bat and immediately leads you inside.

You navigate a narrow hallway at his side, weaving around corners until Negan pushes open a set of steel doors. Beyond the doors is a wide open space full of workers milling about. Gripping his bat, Negan slams the wooden weapon against a steel railing, filling the room with a loud, reverberating clang. The sound alerts the people down below to Negan’s presence and instantly every person in the room drops to one knee.

“Home sweet home!” Negan shouts theatrically, sweeping his arm widely in a bid for you to take in the view. “I need a crew to unload some trucks. The rest of you…back to work!”

The men and women obey immediately, wasting no time as some head for the courtyard outside while others return to whatever tasks they’d been engaged in earlier. You step closer to the edge of the upper level of the room, leaning over the railing to see the vast gathering of followers Negan has here. There’s no denying that he’s done well and built an empire for himself; it’s no wonder he’s let all the power go to his head.

“Pretty damn cool, huh?” he drawls, leaning his elbow on the railing right beside you as he glances down at you from his towering height.

“Unbelievable,” you whisper, more to yourself than anything else. It’s not hard to admit that you’re impressed with what Negan has been able to accomplish here.

Reaching across your chest, Negan’s gloved hand grips your opposite shoulder as he turns you around and forces you to walk in front of him. “Next stop…I want you to meet my wives,” he informs you smugly.

The pressure of Negan’s hand around the back of your neck only grows more uncomfortable as you weave deeper into the compound. You’re not sure if you are ready to see physical evidence of this infamous harem of women. The concept of it disgusts you, and the fact that Negan wants you to join them only makes the very idea of it all the more unpalatable.

Negan halts your steps by squeezing his fingers more firmly against your flesh as he steps around you to reach for the shining silver knob on the heavy door in front of you. You gulp nervously as the door swings open to reveal a lavishly decorated lounge. A bar stands in the far corner; couches, chairs, and various bits of opulent décor occupy the rest of the large room.

“Ladies!” Negan calls, beckoning to the group of women scattered around the area. “Come say hello.”

Like well-trained dogs, each of the women jump to their feet and move to line up in front of you and Negan. Though none of them look particularly thrilled to see Negan, you’re relieved to see that they also don’t look angry or unwelcoming as far as you’re concerned. You glance at each woman, meeting their eyes and trying to determine what each of them thinks of you.

“This is Sherry, Amber, Frankie, and Tanya,” Negan announces, pointing consecutively to the brunette, blonde, red-headed, and raven-haired women. “I like a little variety in my flavors,” Negan whispers conspiratorially, referencing the spanning shades of locks among the women.

You wave shyly to the wives, hoping your politeness gets you in their good graces as you expect you’ll be seeing much more of them while you’re here. Each one returns your greeting, though you can’t help feeling like they’re looking at you with pity.

“She’s here strictly for business purposes,” Negan tells his wives, explaining your presence. “But I’m hoping once things are settled here, she’ll be interested in joining our little arrangement.”

Stomach dropping at Negan’s persistence to acquire you as a wife, you do your best to hide the discomfort in your expression. Your body tenses when Negan places a gloved finger beneath your chin and lifts your head to look at him. He stares in your eyes, his gaze drilling into you as you grow uneasy, not sure what he’s expecting. Too terrified of the consequences, you refrain from pulling away from Negan’s touch, merely suffering through the contact until he laughs throatily at your reaction and finally drops his hand.

With that, Negan bids farewell to the faction of women and leads you further down the hallway. Reaching a red door, Negan digs into his pocket, producing a key which he slides into the lock before opening the door and directing you inside. This room is even more beautifully decorated than the previous one — a large, four-poster bed, two couches, a table and a wooden desk fill the space.

For a moment, you’re astounded that you’re being given such a grand and splendid room. Perhaps Negan is trying to make up for his behavior and the fact that you’re pretty much here against your will. That line of reasoning seems logical, until you turn around and see Negan laying his bat on one of the couches as he removes his leather jacket.

 _Of course this is his room_. Having your own place to stay that doesn’t include being in uncomfortably close proximity to him is far too good to be true. You should’ve known Negan would never let you out of his sight as that just doesn’t fit his agenda; it goes against his need to be in constant control of everyone, making sure they’re always fully aware of his smothering presence.

“Make yourself at home,” Negan instructs, draping his jacket over the desk chair.

Standing awkwardly just feet inside the doorway, you’re not exactly sure what you should do. You remain where you are, watching as Negan pours a splash of whiskey into a glass before he takes a seat and slips a pair of glasses onto the bridge of his nose.

He props his booted feet on the surface of his desk, reaching for a ledger that he flips open in his lap and begins leafing through. The shuffle of turning pages is the only sound in the room as Negan studies the information in front of him and sips his drink. After several minutes, he finally looks up and spots you – standing frozen, exactly where he left you.

“You just gonna stand there all night?” he wonders flatly, turning his attention back to the book in his lap.

“Um…I just don’t, uh, don’t really know how this is supposed to work,” you respond choppily.

“How what is supposed to work?” Negan wonders impatiently, snapping the ledger shut and tossing it back onto his desk.

“This,” you repeat, gesturing vaguely to yourself, Negan, and then the room around you. “It’s obvious you brought me here to be a pawn in your game. I’m supposed to stay in here with you? And then what? I’m expected to stick around and become a member of the brothel? How does this work?” you rant, words gaining speed and volume as you grow more frantic.

Negan swings his legs around then, his boots thumping loudly on the ground as he whips his eyeglasses from his face and stands up. Pacing slowly towards you, Negan points the temple of his glasses in your direction before addressing your concerns.

“You’re staying in here because I don’t trust you enough to leave you anywhere on your own. And I don’t think I should trust you, given your track record so far. It’s my room or a cell, so take your pick,” Negan offers with a mocking tone. “You already know you’re here because I need full cooperation from your people and if a little ‘holy shit, somebody is gonna die’ is what it takes to get them there, well…so be it, darlin’.“

” _Is_ somebody gonna die?“ you ask, interrupting Negan’s explanation, something he seems less than pleased about. "And what happens when they do cooperate?”

“ _If_ they cooperate,” he counters, still strolling across the room towards you. “As for what happens if your people decide to pull their heads out of their tight asses, you get to go home. Unless, of course, you change your mind about becoming a wife,” he taunts with a slimy grin and a salacious laugh. “I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to, but based on how enthusiastically you’ve taken my dick on several occasions, I’d guess you do want that.”

Choosing to ignore Negan’s crude words and flirtatious wink, you argue his previous point. “You can’t just keep me locked up in here,” you complain.

Your words prompt Negan to remove what little distance remains between you. He steps towards you, forcing you to back up a few inches when he reaches around your body to drop his glasses on the bedside table. You swallow thickly as Negan looms over you, using his height to his advantage as he stares you down for an uncomfortable amount of time, letting the tense silence eat away at you.

“Oh no? I can’t? Says who?” he whispers rhetorically. “Let me make something perfectly clear to you, my dear. I’m in charge. What I say, goes…no questions,” he declares with force. “It would be in your best interest to keep that in mind while you’re here. The quicker you accept your place, the easier this whole thing goes.”

“I don’t have a place here,” you hiss, bravely standing on your toes to get in Negan’s face. “You kidnapped me and are now holding me hostage, remember?”

Not seeming to appreciate your sass or backtalk, Negan’s face falls and his lips twitch with barely restrained rage. You worry for a moment that he’s going to hit you, as you know how unpredictable the man is. Still, you refuse to back down, holding your ground as you continue glaring at Negan. After what feels like the world’s longest, most suspenseful staring contest, you’re dismayed when Negan’s grimace gradually transforms to a chilling, toothy grin.

“Damn. Okay, girl,” he murmurs, his soft tone belying the eruption that’s sure to come. “You should get some sleep, you’ve got a long ass day ahead of you tomorrow.”

“What’s happening tomorrow?” you wonder falling right into Negan’s trap.

“We’re gonna pay Alexandria a little visit,” Negan offers happily. “Since you seem to be having trouble getting on board here, I think I’ll help you out,” he states, chuckling to himself when he’s sure he’s piqued your interest.

“I’m thinkin’ maybe Rick should know why I brought you here. You think I should tell him how you let me get a taste of your sweet pussy and I decided that I wanted to take you back so I could fuck you whenever I want?” he mutters, thinking aloud. “Or do you want me to force you to give him every sordid detail about how you killed one of your own people while you took my cock like a champ? I don’t think your old pal Rick would be too happy to hear that, would he?”

Your blood boils in anger, rage setting your body alight with hatred upon hearing Negan’s bold threat. Regret fills you over every decision you’ve made that led you to where you are now — standing in front of your foe in his bedroom, being black-mailed into playing along with his sick game. You’re disgusted with yourself and frustrated that you’d let lust cloud your mind and land you in this predicament. Desperate to deter Negan’s cruel intentions, you debate his plan, though even to your own ears your rebuttal is weak.

“He’ll never believe you,” you snap. “Rick knows what you’re like. He knows you just say things to fuck with people. He doesn’t trust you and without any proof, he’ll just think you’re trying to turn us against each other.”

“You’re right, Rick does know what I’m like,” Negan growls. “Just because he understands my motives doesn’t mean he won’t be disgusted when he finds out there’s another reason you’re the one I picked to send my message.”

You chuckle humorlessly, masking the fact that you are afraid Negan will actually tell Rick about your past relations. “Tell him whatever you want, Negan. It’s your word against mine. But I can promise you right now, it’s never gonna happen again if Rick finds out,” you assure him, hoping to sway him into keeping your secret exactly that — a secret.

“Make no mistake about it, sweetheart, you’re not just here because I wanna get my dick wet. You saw how many hot-as-fuck wives I have for that,” he concedes. “You’re here because I need you, Rick, and the rest of those sorry shits back home to understand something. I call the shots, I run the show. You fall into place and do what I say, or you die. Those are the options,” Negan grunts, trying to silence your attempts to persuade him not to tell Rick anything.

“Do you think telling him is going to work in your favor?” you intone snidely. “You’re so convinced that he’s going to be scandalized by what I did, so he isn’t gonna give a shit about me anymore and your plan to use me to make your point is just a waste of time.”

“Rick is soft, doll. We both know that,” Negan laughs. “No matter how mad he is, he’ll never be able to live with the weight of letting something bad happen to you. So my plan is still going to be very much in action. Rick needs to know that the second he fucks up, I will kill people he cares about. One by one, I’ll pick 'em all off until he gets it through his head that he’s mine. You’re all mine.”

Shaking your head in defeat, you don’t bother responding any further. It’s no use anyway, and pissing Negan off more is just going to make things worse. In the interest of protecting Rick and the rest of Alexandria, you force yourself to submit to Negan’s will. You’ll play along just long enough to gain his trust and then you’ll make your move.


	4. House Rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You learn how things work at your new home and what happens should you decide not to follow along accordingly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This is a re-post as I previously deleted this story and it also appears on AO3 as an orphaned work.)

**house rules /hous ro͞olz/**  
_**noun**_  
**1\. A set of guidelines and regulations within a particular establishment by which you are expected to play.**

Life within the four walls of Negan’s room proves even more boring than you could have ever imagined. Day in and day out, your options of things to occupy all your free time are painfully limited. Occasionally, you tidy up Negan’s room, fiddling with things on his small bookshelf. It’s something that hadn’t gone unnoticed by the meticulous and observant man.

Though he was angry at first, you’d explained that you were just trying to better organize his belongings which seemed to make him relax a bit. Since then, he’d requested that you always ask permission rather than touching his things. In fact, his exact words had been: _If you don’t ask, you don’t touch. Unless it’s my dick. You can touch that as much as you want. Whenever you want. You don’t have to ask_.

You’d received permission to clean to your heart’s content, though that only lasts a few days. With nothing more than a small pile of dusty books and a deck of worn playing cards, it takes less than a week for you to start feeling restless and stir-crazy.

Now the most interesting part of your days is when Negan’s right-hand man — who you’ve come to learn is named Simon — or some other Savior stops by to deliver the inventory ledgers or various messages to Negan. The first time it happened, he sat you down on one of the large leather couches and instructed you remain there, commanding you to keep so silent he would forget you were even in the room. You rolled your eyes when he turned his back to answer the knock on the door, though you obeyed nonetheless.

You couldn’t believe that Negan would discuss his business so openly in front of you, but you figure he doesn’t view you as a threat in any capacity. He doesn’t care what you know or how much you hear as there’s not anything you can do with the information. Unable to leave his room, anything you see or hear will never make it past the threshold. Not for lack of trying, though. Every day when Negan rises in the early morning and heads out for the day, you’d hop up right away and test the knob. And every day, you would find it firmly locked.

Today, however, he slips up. Mere minutes after returning from the morning’s early run, Negan has barely settled in at his desk when a frantic knock rattles the door. He calls out and invites the visitor in, not bothering to answer the door himself. From behind the door appears a rather frazzled looking Simon — his hair sticking up in all directions, face coated in sweat, and chest heaving with labored breaths.

“The fuck has you dripping sweat all over my floor?” Negan wonders impatiently.

“Breach in the fence,” Simon pants. “Got biters in the inner perimeter.”

Negan responds straightaway, snatching up his barbed bat before practically sprinting from the room and slamming the door behind him. You stare at the chipped, crimson paint coating the door for a moment as the air settles and the room seems eerily silent. It’s then that you realize Negan’s mistake. In his haste, he’d neglected to lock the door and trap you inside.

You know you shouldn’t leave the room. Negan has made it clear in no uncertain terms that you are to remain here. Though when he’d said “stay here” on the first day he left you alone, you took it as a casual statement rather than a request. You can’t imagine him being too cross with you for wanting a change of scenery.

Pulling in a deep breath, it takes you no time at all to make your decision — you’re going to get out of this room today. You jump to your feet and grab your dirty boots from where Negan had left them next to his dresser. Jamming your feet inside, you rub your sweaty palms across your denim-clad thighs as you stand before the closed entryway, assuring yourself that this isn’t a terrible idea.

Your fingers spread, extending towards the silver knob with only a slight hesitation. Biting your lip nervously, you grip the handle and close your eyes in hope as you rotate your wrist. Much to your excitement, the knob does actually spin this time, then the latch releases and you’re able to swing the door open. A breathy laugh slips past your lips and you barely refrain from jumping up and down with glee.

Taking an initial step into the hallway, you aren’t sure which way to go first. Unfamiliar with the layout of the building, you follow your instincts and head in the direction where you can just barely make out the sounds of other people. You stride confidently down the hallway, not seeing anything wrong with just wanting to explore. It’s not as if you’re trying to escape, so what’s the harm in wandering around?

The halls are empty, though you move steadily towards the growing sounds from within the depths of the factory. Before you can make it to the source of the noises, you pass by a door, hearing the sound of muffled yelling filtering in from the other side. Curiosity awakened, you inch towards the door, turning the handle and easing the heavy metal barrier open.

You gasp in elation when heat and sunlight pour in, illuminating the dark hallway you stand in. Suddenly desperate for the sun’s warmth on your skin, you wrench the door open and nearly tumble through the threshold. Your boots shuffle across the gravel beneath your feet as you trudge into the wide-open yard. Paying no mind to the Saviors in the distance, you traverse to ground until you’re standing in the dead center of the clearing, basking in the scorching rays of sunlight.

A smile inches across your face and you throw your head back, shutting your eyes as you inhale the refreshing, summery air. Your lungs stretch to capacity before you blow a heavy breath out and spin slowly to take in your surroundings. No one seems to be present on this end of the perimeter and you take advantage of that fact by walking to the nearby fence. Hooking your fingers into the steel chain-link, you observe the distant treeline, wishing you could surround yourself with nature rather than being stuck here behind these walls.

Amid your longing to be beyond the Sanctuary’s perimeter, the sound of crunching footsteps reaches your ears. Turning to glance over your shoulder, you spot a tall, scrawny man heading directly for you. You smile vaguely, wondering who this is and what they want. With the determined pace of his steps and the unhappy expression on his face, the approaching man starts to make you nervous as he closes in on you.

“Do you have permission to be here? Did Negan give you permission?” he interrogates sourly.

It’s obvious this Savior recognizes you, or at the very least, he’s figured out that you’re the person Negan had brought back from Alexandria. Based on his question, you surmise he doesn’t know that you’ve not been given implicit permission to be here, so perhaps a little white lie will do no harm.

“I’m allowed to be here,” you respond politely, praying for this man to go away so you can enjoy the outdoors a moment longer, then sneak back inside.

“Negan knows where you are?” he wonders in disbelief. “Out here? By yourself?”

His prodding and skeptical tone both annoys and worries you, and you hope he doesn’t decide to tell Negan where you are; or worse yet, turn you over into the hands of the volatile man. Before you have a chance to shoo the man away with another deceitful response, a deep voice calls out from the distance and your heart nearly stops at the familiar husky pitch.

“Gavin!” Negan hollers, striding purposefully and covering the ground between you in no time at all. “What the fuck are you doing out here with her?”

The irritation is blatant in Negan’s accusation as he glares pointedly at the blonde worker who now shuffles nervously between you and the towering, bat-toting man.

“Nothing, sir,” the Savior states, trying to keep the distress out of his voice. “I spotted her from my post and came to investigate.”

Negan’s tense muscles seem to relax slightly at the man’s admission. “You didn’t bring her out here?”

“No, sir,” Gavin answers. “I found her wandering over by the fence. She told me you gave her permission to be out here.”

You visibly cringe at Gavin’s words as he swiftly throws you under the bus and sells you out to Negan. Turning to fully face the pair in front of you, you press your back to the fence behind you, your fingers gripping the metal with anxious intensity.

“Is that so?” Negan murmurs lowly, spinning at a glacial pace to meet your eyes. He blinks slowly, tongue sweeping over his teeth while he processes the information. There’s a tight, disconcerting smile on his face, but the simmering rage that boils in his darkening eyes gives away his displeasure. “That true?” he asks you, noting your gentle nod of confirmation. “Well well, you and I need to have another talk, I guess. Come with me.”

Not giving you a chance to argue, Negan snatches your wrist, rapidly dragging you towards the door with brutish force. You whimper lowly, though the sound goes unheard as Negan crashes the metal door open, hardly controlling his anger with you as he hauls you back to the prison of his room. He tosses you through the door and you barely manage to remain on your feet as he enters behind you and slams the door with thundering force before dropping his bat against the wall with a clatter.

“There’s a lesson to be learned here, and I am certainly looking forward to teaching you,” Negan intones coldly, his voice uncomfortably quiet and level.

You watch apprehensively as he tears the single leather glove from his right hand and carelessly tosses it to the ground, promptly followed by his heavy jacket. That alone worries you, as Negan is incredibly neat and uptight about messiness and keeping his possessions in their rightful place.

“What did I tell you the very first day you came here?” he implores, slowly advancing on you.

Swallowing thickly, you clear your throat before answering. “You’re in charge. You make the rules and everyone has to follow.”

“That is _correct_ , sweetheart,” Negan commends enthusiastically. “And did you follow my rules?”

“No,” you murmur, fighting against the instinct to hang your head in shame.

“No, you did not. Because I asked you to do one tiny thing, didn’t I?” he continues, his tone growing more tense. “What did I ask you to do?”

“To stay put…in your room,” you recall.

Negan moves in, mere inches separating your bodies now. Gulping audibly, you can’t bring yourself to glance up and meet Negan’s eyes given the current proximity of the formidable man. You stare straight ahead at his torso, watching in your peripheral as Negan’s fists clench tightly at his sides.

“And what…did you…do?” he whispers harshly.

“I went outside,” your voice quivers.

“You. Went. Outside,” Negan fumes. “And then you lied to one of my men. So you’re a shitty listener and a liar.”

When you open your mouth to protest and defend yourself, Negan sucks his teeth, immediately pressing a slender finger to your parted lips to silence you. Shutting your mouth, your eyes flick to Negan’s and a chill courses through your body and the icy rage you find there.

“Oh no! No no. We’re done talking. If you can’t listen, you don’t get to fuckin’ speak,” he reprimands. “If you’re just going to use that pretty mouth to lie, we’re gonna have to find better things for you to do with it, right?”

The shift in Negan’s words sends a bolt of fear through your body. Though the heat of his tone hints at the meaning of his statement, the movement of his hands reaching for his belt buckle simply solidifies the notion. You glance down, watching as he unfastens his belt and yanks it through the loops of his pants, loudly snapping the leather strip in the process.

“Put your hands behind your back,” Negan demands firmly, his belt clutched tightly in his strong hands.

“Negan, please…I'm–,” you begin, though his seething words halt your plea instantaneously.

“Behind…your back,” he barks.

Obeying his furious command, your hands shake as you clutch them behind you. Negan steps around you, though his piercing eyes remain on you and you feel them burning into the back of your head once he slips out of your line of vision. You flinch when he takes hold of your hands and lifts them away from your body to wrap his belt around the delicate flesh. The leather strip still holds some warmth from being pressed against his hips, the heat caressing your wrists as he tightens the belt to restrain your hands in a tight, uncomfortable position.

Your chest heaves when Negan drags his rough fingertips from your wrist, up your arm, and over your shoulder as he circles back around to your front. He looks down at you while his venturing touch trails across your collarbone before moving back to to grip your shoulder harshly. He digs his thumb into the tender flesh, then applies pressure until you crumble and yield to his silent demand to drop to your knees.

He wastes no time unbuttoning his pants to release his rapidly growing erection. Being so close to Negan’s manhood just reminds you how intimidating the sheer size of him is and given his mood, you’re not sure you’re ready for whatever he has planned. Before you have a chance to doubt your desire to take Negan’s punishment, he’s stepping closer and tapping the weight of his heavy length against your cheek.

“Open that mouth, let me in,” he growls, dragging the leaking tip of his cock across your lips. “I’m gonna slide my big dick down your throat, and you’re gonna shut up and take it like a good girl.”

Parting your lips, you gasp in surprise as Negan shoves his hips forward, plunging every inch of his member into the warm, damp recesses of your mouth. His cockhead bumps the back of your throat right away, earning a significant gag from you. Your muscles clench as your reflexes fight against the intrusion and try to force Negan from your throat. He merely groans in pleasure, enjoying the way the rippling muscles of your esophagus clench his sensitive cock.

Another chorus of strong, wet gags emerge from your mouth, filling the room with the sound of your desperate heaving. Tears pour from your eyes and drool spills from your lips; with each gag and wave of seizing muscles that accompanies Negan’s brutal thrusts, the mucus forming in your nasal cavities begins to drip down your face as well.

Driving his hips with inconsiderate force and speed, the moisture covering your face flings all over when Negan starts fucking your mouth furiously. You try to whimper and alert Negan to your discomfort, though the squelching sounds prompted by the swift motions of his cock sliding in and out of your face drown the sound of your protest out. Regardless, your cries of opposition would only go ignored as Negan is punishing you and this is what you deserve.

When Negan delivers a particularly jarring pump of his hips, his dick reaches further than it has thus far, and you choke so hard, you’re sure the contents of your stomach are bound to make an appearance. Sensing his orgasm, Negan sets his mind to getting off as soon as possible and in doing so opts to hold you in place, forcing you down as far as you can reach on his cock. Unable to breathe, you pull against your restraints, the leather binding your wrists digging painfully into your skin as you panic and flail, trying to escape Negan’s grasp.

Your throat is unable to gather any oxygen and with your nose buried in the thick, musky hair at the base of Negan’s throbbing member, you feel your head begin to pound and your vision starts to blur as Negan quite literally chokes you on his cock. His hands shake with the effort of holding your head in place as you try your best to pull away. Just as you’re seconds away from snapping your jaw shut and chomping his dick clean off, Negan backs off just a bit, forcing you to catch the torrent of hot, thick cum that floods your mouth as you gasp loudly.

A feral sound rips from Negan’s throat and his legs vibrate with the force of his orgasm. When his seemingly never-ending stream of seed finally ceases, Negan pulls his softening length from between your lips. You don’t even have time to suck in much-needed oxygen before Negan forces your mouth shut and pinches your nose. You try to wrench your face away, thinking he’s attempting to suffocate you until he speaks and you realize what he’s doing.

“Swallow it,” he hisses. “Every fuckin’ bit of it.”

You gulp frantically while simultaneously gasping for air, willing your still-sensitive gag reflex to abate long enough for you to obey Negan’s command. His cum slips thickly down your throat, settling uncomfortably in your stomach as he continues cutting off your ability to breath until you’ve swallowed it all, much the way one might do to force an uncooperative dog to take it’s medicine. Feeling wrung out and thoroughly degraded, you collapse in a retching heap when Negan eventually lets you go, your body bent over the ground and shaking as you try to recover.

“There we go,” Negan coos condescendingly as he observes your dripping mess of a face, sweeping his thumb through the layer of spit coating your chin before wiping it off on his pants. “Did you learn your lesson now?”

Nodding your assent, you blink quickly to clear the moisture collecting in your eyes. More tears stream down your face, mixing with the mucus sprouting from your nose and the saliva still dribbling from your slack jaw. You pant and sniffle, trying to gain some control over your strained breaths. Your throat is raw and your jaw aches, though it’s nothing compared to how used and dirty you feel. Staring blankly at the ground, you nearly miss Negan’s repetition of his question and his clear expectation of a verbal answer.

“Yes,” you rasp, utilizing your scratchy throat to murmur the monosyllabic word.

“Good,” Negan practically hoots, leaning over you to release your chafed wrists. Your heavy, sore arms hang loosely at your sides until Negan hovers over you, holding out a clean, white towel. “Wipe that shit off your face,” he instructs.

Slipping the terrycloth from his hand, you swipe gingerly at the copious amount of moisture coating your face. You dry your teary eyes, dabbing at them to clear your vision as you sigh tiredly. Negan’s intense stare feels like a physical contact though you choose not to acknowledge him as he awaits your full attention.

“Come over here,” Negan calls from across the room, perched on the edge of his bed.

Your knees protest the weight you put on them as you climb to your feet. Dropping the soiled cloth on the table, you join Negan on the bed, sure to leave at least a little space between you. He remains silent for a moment, observing you and your downcast eyes before bracing a single finger below your chin to turn your flushed face towards him.

“If you want the privilege of leaving my room, you have to earn it. Earn. My. Trust,” he enunciates pointedly. “Until then…anything you want or need, you ask my permission first. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Negan,” you concede sheepishly.

“When you learn to follow my rules and listen to what I say, I’ll let you leave this room,” he offers, though he swiftly amends his statement upon seeing the twinkling of hope in your eyes. “With a chaperone.”

Though his addition dampens your hopes of going anywhere alone, it’s still a step in the right direction. Gaining Negan’s trust means you earn some freedom. Gaining his trust means a better chance of you getting back home.


	5. Trick Shot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Negan makes a deal with you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This is a re-post as I previously deleted this story and it also appears on AO3 as an orphaned work.)

**trick shot /trik SHät/**  
_**noun**_  
**1\. A set-up shot used to demonstrate creativity or skill; where the key to executing the shot is knowing how to set up the balls.**

Tugging a pair of khaki shorts over your legs, you take a look in the mirror above the bathroom vanity and scoff humorlessly. Since arriving at the Sanctuary, Negan had provided you with the necessities including some clothing. Nearly everything you’ve been given so far has been skimpy, tight, and at least two sizes too small to be considered reasonable or appropriate. Not to mention the ridiculously racy and raunchy undergarments he’d supplied.

Based on the fact that the tan shorts currently cinched around your hips just barely cover your ass and your t-shirt leaves several inches of your stomach showing, you decide that Negan is blind and stupid or just an immense pervert. When you step out of the bathroom and spot Negan’s gleeful smile, you decide it’s the latter.

“Shit, that sight is enough to make me not wanna leave this room,” Negan remarks from his perch on the couch. “Come sit.”

You stride smoothly across the room, following Negan’s instruction to take a seat on the couch opposite him. Trying not to cross your arms and accentuate the already dipping cleavage of your shirt, you settle comfortably into the buttery, black leather. Negan lets out a sharp whistle, causing you to flinch slightly as the door creaks open and a bulky man enters.

“This here is Fat Joey,” Negan introduces, directing the nervous man forward. “I’ve tasked him with accompanying you wherever you want to go. Anywhere inside, that is. Cells in the basement are off limits. Other than that, you have free reign as long as you behave. Fat Joey’s orders come directly from me so I’m expecting you to listen to whatever he says, got it?”

Nodding your head enthusiastically, you agree to Negan’s few stipulations. He smiles then and — as usual — the gesture doesn’t actually reach his eyes, though this is the most genuine semblance of happiness you’ve ever seen from Negan. He hops to his feet then, pleased with your compliance, and pulls you in close to his firm body. Negan glances at Joey, ensuring that his eyes are on the pair of you before he ducks his head and kisses you forcefully. Though it feels more like a power play than a signal of affection, you reciprocate adequately enough to satisfy Negan.

“Have her back by the time I return from the run,” Negan demands lowly before snatching up his bat and leaving the room.

You watch as Negan exits the room, off to complete his duties for the day. A somewhat awkward silence falls between you and Joey before he clears his throat and steps towards the door, sweeping an arm out to invite you to leave the room.

“After you,” he offers politely.

“I don’t know anything about this place, so I guess it’s up to you to show me all the cool shit,” you joke, hoping to lighten the mood.

“Well, uh…okay, we’ll get the boring stuff out of the way first,” Joey states shyly as he leads you through the maze of halls.

He shows you everything from the laundry and recreational rooms to the lower level with the furnace that powers the Sanctuary. Though Joey tells you he’s been forbidden from introducing you to any of the Saviors, he does introduce you to the compound’s doctor, Carson.

You make a quick stop in the dining hall where you grab a bite to eat. As you wander the halls with Joey, you realize he is actually a nice guy and you find yourself enjoying his company. Between conversation, he cracks a few jokes, and you giggle as you round the corner of the hall leading to Negan’s room. 

Not wanting to part from your new friend’s company, you turn to him with a sigh, but before you can thank him for being your escort, you spot Negan. He’s storming down the hallway heading for his room, his unzipped jacket flapping loosely behind him and his barbed bat swinging at his side.

“Fat Joey!” he barks heatedly, stomping your way with startling anger. “Get lost!”

“Yes, sir,” Joey concedes, immediately turning to sweep past Negan in the narrow hallway.

“Fuckin’ move!” Negan yells, clearly not satisfied with the speed at which Joey moves. “Put a little effort into it, God knows you can use the goddamn exercise.”

It’s obvious something on today’s run has Negan riled up and upset as he charges towards you where you stand. Only mere feet away from the door leading to his room, you consider running for safety, however, Negan reaches you before you can make up your mind.

Not speaking a single word to you, Negan’s hand shoots out and grasps your neck as he drops his bat against the wall with haste. He pushes you harshly, pinning your body against the wall. Upon looking up at his strained face, you spot a smear of blood spanning the length of one side of his face. Between the streak of blood from some unknown injury and Negan’s obvious vexation, your spine tingles with nervousness, unsure where this is heading.

“Negan, what are you doing?” you prod quietly.

“Shh,” he hisses, spittle flying towards your face with the force of the silencing sound.

Negan is either oblivious or completely unconcerned with your apprehension as he shows no sign of relenting. Fighting against his forceful grip, you turn your head and look down either end of the hallway to make sure there are no potential spectators. Spotting your distracted expression, Negan clenches his fingers against your neck and steps closer to press his hips into yours.

“Maybe we should take this inside…your room is right down the hall,” you offer, your wavering voice fraught with anxiety.

While not averse to what Negan clearly wants from you, you are averse to him taking you in the middle of the hallway where anyone might stumble upon you. He ignores your placating words and you reach up to wrap your fingers around his wrist to regain his attention. Jostling his arm slightly, you hope you’re capable of calming the chaotic and charged energy rolling off of Negan in waves.

Unfortunately, Negan still pays no mind to your attempts to stall him. Instead, his free hand dives beneath the short hem of your t-shirt, venturing towards your swelling chest. You grab his hand and push it away, though all you accomplish is redirecting his desperate touch towards your shorts instead. He easily pops the button open, trying unsuccessfully to yank the skin-tight garment down your thighs.

Giving up on the task, Negan apparently expects you to undress yourself as he releases your throat and shifts his hands to his own belt. He unfastens the buckle and shuffles the fabric of his pants until they’re dangling in the vicinity of his knobby knees. The thin fabric of his navy boxer briefs do nothing to hide the bulging shape of his growing erection and the sight has your breath picking up. Still unaware of the doubt in your face, Negan concentrates on removing his clothing just enough to get inside you as soon as possible.

“One of these days, I’m gonna fuck you in a bed. You’re gonna submit to me and agree to be one of my wives,” he promises darkly. “I’m gonna own you completely.”

The determined rage in Negan’s words frightens you as the hot and heavy mood shifts to something more deeply aggressive and predatory. Worried by Negan’s lack of emotion and utter detachment from the situation and how uneasy he’s making you, you push your hands against the softness of his belly. He ignores your subtle rejection to his pushy advances, so you try once more to distract him just long enough to get inside his room.

“Come on, you need to get cleaned up, Negan. Maybe go down to the infirmary,” you mention, pointing to the blood crusted on his cheek.

“It isn’t my blood,” he counters dryly, still determined to get what he wants from you.

“Negan, look at me,” you plead, shaken by his eerily disconnected behavior.

“Are you saying no?” he snarls, finally acknowledging your resistance with a decent amount of frustration.

“No, I’m not,” you appease.

Hearing what he considers adequate consent, Negan’s control snaps. His hand returns to the column of your neck and he knocks your head violently against the wall as he presses his taut body presses closer to you.

“Then shut your mouth,” he growls. “The only words I wanna hear from you are ‘please Negan, fuck me harder’, okay?”

You can’t help the way you flush at Negan’s vulgar words. You’re scared, but nevertheless, you’re incredibly turned on by his smothering dominance and commanding presence. Surrendering then, you make no further attempt to stave off Negan’s lustful advances.

Pleased with your eventual submission, Negan finally manages to drag your shorts down your legs, then pulls the tangled garment over your booted feet. Not wasting time to repeat the motion with your panties, he merely uses the knife hanging off his belt to slice through them and fling the wet material to the ground.

With an impressive show of speed and strength, Negan hauls you into his arms and you lock your legs around his hips. He drops a hand between the two of you to release his cock from his underwear. Your back presses to the rough concrete behind you and the chill of the cool surface seeps through the thin material of your shirt. Negan’s slender fingers venture between your parted thighs, his fingertips barely sweeping across your folds to ensure that you’re wet enough to take him. You are, and it’s something Negan makes sure to point out.

“Your pussy is always so goddamn wet for me,” he grunts cockily, prompting your cheeks to flush with humiliation.

Not giving you a chance to wallow in your embarrassment, Negan fills you swiftly. You gasp loudly at the sudden full sensation and the stinging stretch that his considerable girth causes. Your t-shirt rides up with each of Negan’s steadfast thrusts, the concrete scraping uncomfortably against the soft flesh of your lower back.

Negan barely allows you a moment to adjust to his size before he’s snapping his hips up and plowing into you. The hallway echoes with the sounds of your skin slapping together and you worry the pornographic sound is going to draw unwanted attention. Determined to get off, Negan keeps a steady rhythm as he grunts and groans while fucking you thoroughly. The onslaught of pleasure wrenches loud, frenetic cries from you.

Your enthusiastic response to his deep, fluid thrusts doesn’t go unnoticed, though Negan makes no effort whatsoever to quiet you. He wants them to know. He wants everyone here to know he’s fucking the girl from the other side; that he’s owning and claiming her body and she’s helpless to resist his power, regardless of the fact that he’s the enemy.

“Tell me how much you love it…how badly you need my huge cock slamming into that tight fuckin’ pussy,” he taunts, his teeth clenched with his strained effort to hold you up while he ravishes you. “C'mon, I wanna hear it, you filthy little girl.”

Unable to speak clearly, you merely make a guttural sound of utter bliss as Negan overwhelms you. His ability to turn you into a shivering, dripping mess is incomparable to any lover you’ve ever had and somehow you think Negan is aware of that. He seems satisfied with your sad attempt at fulfilling his request and your obedience invigorates him.

Jostling your entire body as he increases the force and depth of his jarring thrusts, Negan strives to fuck you straight through the wall. Amid his ferocious movements, one of your legs slips down his hips and out of his grasp, the toes of your dangling foot just barely brushing the ground as Negan keeps a haphazard hold on your spread body.

“Oh God! Fuck, Negan. I’m gonna…I’m gonna–,” spills from your slack mouth, but you never get to finish the sentence before Negan drives his cock as far as your body will allow and sets off your simultaneous orgasms.

Spending himself within you with a rumbling moan, the heat of his sticky seed reminds you that this is the second time he’s fucked you without protection. Too invested in the throes of passion to give a damn, you merely brush off the thought as your climax blazes through you. You convulse in Negan’s arms, your fingers twisted in his white t-shirt as you cling to him while your body still clenches around his length.

The instant Negan is finished emptying his balls, he drops you fully from his arms and slips smoothly from your body, not caring that you’re still mid-orgasm. You groan in protest though you’re unable to keep Negan inside you and you struggle to stay upright on your wobbly legs when he releases his hold on you entirely.

Touching your sensitive pussy, Negan glides his fingers along the hot, wet flesh and coats his fingers in the cream of your combined juices. He promptly lifts his hand and shoves his fingers between your lips, instructing you to suck them clean. Repeating the action multiple times, Negan doesn’t stop until his cum stops dripping from your core and you’ve licked every drop of proffered fluid from his fingers.

Negan begins adjusting his clothes then, tucking himself into his pants as he pulls them back over his hips and tightens his belt. He doesn’t bother assisting you in sliding your shorts back onto your tired body, simply waits impatiently while you complete the task on your own. As soon as you’re redressed, he drags you a few feet down the hall and shoves you inside his room.

“Clean yourself up,” he commands coldly, pushing you in the direction of the shower as he heads for the liquor cabinet in the corner.

You don’t bother fighting him since you’re more than happy to clean the stickiness of sweat and cum from your body. Shutting the door behind you, you strip out of your clothes and hop into the shower. As good as the steamy, pounding water feels, you wash your hair and body quickly, not wanting to waste the precious commodity of running water. Without a change of clothes, you merely wrap one of Negan’s luxuriously plush towels around your slick body.

Easing the door open, you enter the room and find Negan perched at the edge of the bed, a glass of amber liquid dangling between his parted thighs. He looks exhausted and defeated and somewhere deep inside, you feel some kind of pity and sympathy for him. The sight of him dragging a hand down his ragged face reignites your curiosity in his officious behavior earlier.

You know you shouldn’t involve yourself in Negan’s business, but you can’t help wondering exactly what had prompted him to take you the way he just did. It’s evident that something had gone wrong based on his desperate need to assert himself and use you to regain a sense of control.

“Where did you guys go today for your run?” you ask casually, not wanting Negan to immediately shut down your inquisition.

“Alexandria,” he murmurs as he looks up at you to gauge your reaction.

He finds exactly what he’s looking for when you hear the unexpected response. Your eyes widen and your lips part in shock as your feet move unbidden to bring you nearer to Negan. The towel swaddling your body slips with the movement and your grip it tightly, holding it to your chest as your next question slips out before you can stop the urgent tone of your voice.

“What happened? Are they okay? Did you hurt them?” you fire off, worried that whatever had Negan so worked up had resulted from your people not cooperating.

“What goes on outside these four walls is none of your concern,” Negan debates calmly, his demeanor calmer now.

“You have me locked in here like a fucking prisoner,” you accuse angrily. “The least you can do is let me know if my friends are still alive.”

“Whoa. Bring it down there, little lady,” he warns, standing up and stepping up to you with a disapproving glare. “I’ve warned you about that fuckin’ attitude.”

You shy away from Negan’s threatening form, sighing softly as you try to reign in your anger before you respond. 

“I’m trying here, Negan, I really am. I haven’t broken any more of your rules. I know that I need to cooperate and I am,” you protest, meeting his eyes in a silent plea. “I don’t want anyone else to get hurt or killed. I understand that privileges are earned and maybe I haven’t done enough to deserve it, but I’d like to ask if I can come with you to Alexandria…to see that my friends are okay.”

“I told you if you obeyed the rules, no harm would come to your people. But once again, you don’t fuckin’ listen,” he scolds. “You really don’t believe me?”

“I do and I appreciate you not hurting them. I cooperated and you didn’t touch me, but I have no idea what’s going on there. For all I know, they’re still fighting back and they’re all dead,” you point out. “I would like to see them for myself, to be sure. And I bet they’d like to know that I’m okay, too. So, would I be allowed to go? Please?”

Negan seems to consider your words for a moment, staring down at you before a slow smile spreads across his face and you’re granted a peek at his perfect teeth. He chuckles lightly before gulping down what remains in the glass dangling from his fingers.

“Well, damn. A little appreciation and some manners? I like that shit,” Negan drawls with a pleased grin. “I guess you have been a good girl lately, so I suppose a reward is in order. Even though I’d rather give you a much better reward,” he purrs, perusing the length of your towel-clad body as he lifts the ends of your dripping hair and wraps them around his finger.

You blush in response to his dirty comment and Negan bites his lip while waggling his eyebrows suggestively. Proud of his ability to embarrass you even after everything you’ve done together, Negan pinches your ass through the towel as he skirts around you to place his empty glass on the surface of his desk.

“Okay,” he concedes, granting your wish. “If you behave for the rest of the week, I’ll let you come with me. And then cum with me,” he teases. “I want you to know that I’m a reasonable guy here, doll. You keep up the good work and continue to cooperate, your life here will be pleasant as punch.”

“I will,” you agree excitedly, not caring that you’re putting your pride aside since you know you’ll be seeing your friends soon.

“Just know that you have one chance to prove to me that you understand one very fundamental thing. And that is that you belong to me. You fuck that up and this is all over. Are we clear?”

Nodding your head firmly, you accept Negan’s words, remembering his promise to reveal your secret to Rick in the event that you blow the opportunity he’s given to you and your people. At this point, you’re sure you’d be willing to do almost anything Negan asks just to get back home, even temporarily or for a quick visit. You need to know that everyone is okay and that Negan kept his word.

“Thank you, Negan,” you whisper.

“You are _welcome_ ,” he crows, leaning back to punctuate the enthusiasm in his words.

Negan takes a seat at his desk then, returning to the papers strewn over the surface as he directs you to get into the bed. Choosing to ignore his implication for you to do so naked, you sneak to the dresser where your clothes are and slip into fresh underwear as well as a clean pair of cotton shorts and a tank top. Before climbing into the bed, you shuffle to Negan’s bookshelf, perusing the titles until you find one of particular interest.

“Can I read this?” you mumble softly, remembering that Negan had instructed you to ask permission before touching any of his belongings.

“Knock yourself out,” he allows, turning his eyes on you and smirking knowingly when he sees that you’ve taken it upon yourself to get dressed since he hadn’t specifically told you not to.

With your book in hand, you jump on the king-sized mattress and burrow beneath the heavy comforter. Flopping back into the pile of plush pillows, you inhale the familiar, spicy scent of Negan as you flip the book open and devour the words splayed across the pages.

When you’re nearly halfway through your book, Negan rises from his desk, stretching with a loud groan as his joints pop audibly. You shut the book and lay it on the bedside table when Negan lets you know he’s running down to the kitchen to grab dinner for the two of you.

He returns after a few minutes and you begrudgingly drag yourself over to the table where he sits when he tells you there’s no way you’re eating in his bed and making a mess. Plodding over to him, you accept the plate of food Negan holds out to you, then take a seat across from his as you dig in.

You finish eating and thank Negan, something you’ve learned he expects from you each time he gives you something or does something for you. Nodding in acknowledgement of your gratitude, he gathers your dirty plates and utensils before radioing to the kitchen and asking them to come collect the dishes.

“Bed. Sleep,” he instructs succinctly, pointing to the rumpled blankets you’d just emerged from.

You crawl beneath them, basking in the heat that remains from your presence earlier. Negan slips into the bathroom and you hear the shower turn on as you burrow your head into the pillow where the scent of Negan is even more potent.

As excited as you are that you’ll be seeing your friends soon, you’re too exhausted for the sentiment to keep you awake. Your eyes slip shut and you succumb to sleep within minutes, totally dead to the world by the time Negan climbs into the bed beside you.


	6. Address The Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unwilling to adjust to the lifestyle being forced upon you, you begin formulating a plan of escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This is a re-post as I previously deleted this story and it also appears on AO3 as an orphaned work.)

**ad·dress the ball /əˈdres T͟Hə bôl/**  
_**verb**_  
**1\. To move and settle into your stance in preparation for a shot.**

The sound of a light rapping against the door prompts you to open your eyes. You’ve been awake for some time, though you had no reason to drag yourself from the cozy confines of Negan’s bed. Rolling over, you spot him making his way to the door and based on his presence at this hour, you assume there’s no pick-up run scheduled for today.

“Bring it in,” Negan grumbles, inviting the Savior toting a heavy-looking crate into the room.

The man fumbles slightly before placing the container on the coffee table and stepping aside to make way for Negan. He peers at the contents of the box, shuffling things around and occasionally pulling items out. Turning around, you can see Negan holding a bottle of alcohol, a bundle of some sort of fabric, and a few books.

“Hey,” he calls to you. “C'mere.”

You slip languidly from the bed, smoothing your rumpled clothes and hair as you pad to where Negan stands.

“You want anything?” he asks, tilting his head in the direction of the crate.

“Are you serious?” you wonder, surprised by Negan’s offer and sure that this is some sort of ploy with an ulterior motive.

“Yeah, I’m damn serious, doll,” he assures you. “You’re my guest. Consider it my gift to you.”

Accepting Negan’s words, you tentatively reach into the pile of items, shifting several over-sized shirts out of the way to see the things buried near the bottom of the crate. Nothing really interests you until you spot a container of powdered lemonade. You can’t even remember the last time you indulged in something sweet and the bright yellow container boasting it’s saccharine and sour flavor instantly captures your attention.

You snatch up the cylinder of drink mix, turning to Negan with a hopeful smile. His face lights up at your obvious excitement over your find and he nods lightly.

“Take it, it’s yours,” he chuckles. “I’ll have Joey go to the kitchen later and find you something to put it in. Maybe, if you were agreeable to it…you’ll share some with me.”

Negan smirks at his comment, both of you knowing that you’d not have a choice in the matter anyway. Cradling your acquired good, you plop yourself down on Negan’s bed and wait for him to finish his discussion with the Savior in the room. Sitting quietly, you discreetly listen in on their low voices, trying to hear anything that may be of interest to you.

“Alright, take the rest of this shit and catalog it,” Negan instructs as the man gathers the bulky box into his arms. “Have Fat Joey bring me a pitcher or some fuckin’ thing for her lemonade. Oh, and tell Simon to have someone bring me the inventory lists from Alexandria. I’m trying to keep track of shit here and you assholes are slacking off.”

The man scurries from the room, wary of the irritated edge Negan’s words had taken on. He sighs heavily as he stows the items he still holds. Scratching his beard, Negan turns towards you before strolling to the foot of the bed and standing over you.

“Is that all it takes to make you happy?” he hums lowly with a slow smile. “A little sugar?”

His fingers drift along your jaw to tuck a loose piece of hair behind your ear as he purrs the words. You feel your face growing hot at Negan’s touch, your fingers clenching tightly around the container still clutched in your hands. Before you know it, Negan’s hand has dropped between your thighs. He presses his fingers into your flesh as he pulls your legs apart and moves to stand between your parted knees. You know you should probably resist him, but the heat blossoming in your core is emphatically rallying against that notion.

“Speaking of sugar…” Negan drawls.

Before he has a chance to complete the thought, another knock rattles the door. You breathe a sigh of relief while Negan breathes a sigh of frustration. Rolling his head around his shoulders, he glances up at the ceiling as he asks who’s at the door.

“It’s Joey, sir. I have the…uh, the…thing,” he mumbles nervously.

“Jesus fuck,” Negan murmurs under his breath, stomping to the door and wrenching it open. “It’s called a fuckin’ pitcher, you dumbass. Go do something more useful than interrupting me.”

Negan snatches the plastic container from Joey’s hands and rudely slams the door in his face. You try your best not to laugh out loud at Negan’s over-the-top rage at the poor man, though you can’t fight the smile lifting your lips. He spots your amusement and glares playfully at you.

“What’s so damn funny?” he implores.

“Nothing,” you giggle. “I just don’t know how anyone puts up with you.”

“Because I’m charming,” he grins.

How true, you think to yourself, noting the accuracy of Negan’s words. Even with the horrid and evil things you know he’s done, you’ve been swayed and manipulated by his irresistible charm. Somehow he has a way with convincing people he’s likable, regardless of how he treats those around him; he’s a con-artist, and he’s great at it.

Sensing the shift in your mood, Negan quickly changes the subject. “So…how about that lemonade, darlin’?” he prods, holding the empty pitcher out to you.

You take the pitcher, tucking the sugary powder under your arm as you walk to the bathroom and fill the container with water. Returning to the room, you set the powder and pitcher atop Negan’s dresser before twisting the top off the lemonade. You dump a generous amount of the drink mix into the water and watch the grains drift to the bottom, coloring the liquid a pale yellow as they dissolve.

“I need something to stir it with,” you lament, turning to Negan in search of a solution.

He glances around the room, biting his lip in contemplation as he looks for something to mix the lemonade with. His hunt is fruitless and as he stands in the center of the room smoothing a hand through his hair, you see a devious smile cross his lips. Reaching for the knife sheathed at his hip, Negan slips it out and offers it to you.

“Negan, that’s disgusting,” you scold, your face screwed up in disapproval. “I have no idea where that thing has been. I need a spoon.”

“Shit. Alright, fine,” he placates, replacing the knife. “Guess I’ll go to the fuckin’ kitchen and get you one. Wait here.”

In no time at all, Negan returns with a victorious grin as he brandishes a wooden spoon. Slipping the spoon from between his fingers with a roll of your eyes, you plunge it into the pitcher and gently stir until it’s thoroughly mixed. Negan returns to your side with two glasses, holding them out to you as he waits for you to fill them. When you’re done, you place the pitcher back on Negan’s dresser and accept the glass he holds out to you.

“I hope you didn’t poison this while I was gone,” Negan teases, raising his glass and clinking it against yours.

As difficult as it is, you’re careful not to be further seduced by Negan’s sudden playfulness and good-natured jokes. Though it’s a nearly convincing façade, you still know deep down that it’s all a game. Negan is skilled in making you believe he can be trusted, but you know better than to fall for his thinly-veiled skullduggery.

“And waste a perfectly good pitcher of my precious lemonade? I wouldn’t dream of it,” you retort, playing along and making Negan laugh lightly as you lift your respective glasses.

You sip daintily, nearly moaning as the sweet drink crashes over your taste buds. Negan slurps his own lemonade with no propriety whatsoever, though you’re too engrossed in the mouth-watering beverage to care about his lack of manners.

“Mm mm mm, damn. Tasty shit. Thanks, dollface,” he states, landing a hard slap against your ass. “Listen, I gotta go see Simon and take care of some fuckin’ stuff, so I’ll be gone for a while. You’re not to step foot out of this room.”

Awaiting your acquiescence, Negan doesn’t move until you nod. Opening his door again, Negan scares the life out of you when he screams down the hallway, yelling Joey’s name. Within about a minute, the panting man appears in Negan’s doorway, his cheeks flushed and his brow damp with sweat as Negan tells him to wait outside the door and make sure you don’t get into any trouble while he’s gone.

With that, Negan glides down the hall, leaving the door open so Joey can keep an eye on you. For the first time since your last discretion when you’d left Negan’s room, the Savior keeping guard outside the door is someone you know. Taking advantage of your meager relationship with Joey, you hatch a hasty plan.

Looking down at the pitcher of lemonade, you swirl the container and create a whirlpool within the sugary refreshment. From Negan’s liquor cabinet, you grab a clean glass and fill it to the brim with lemonade before moving towards the door.

“Hey, Joey,” you greet with a smile. “Want some lemonade?”

He accepts the glass hesitantly, sipping at it slowly before taking several large gulps. Within seconds, the drink is gone and he swipes his moist lips on the back of his hand before handing the cup back to you.

“That’s some good stuff,” he praises.

“Have some more. I won’t drink any more of it and we can’t let it go to waste,” you offer kindly.

Filling the glass once more, you surrender it to Joey. He polishes it off quickly, smacking his lips after each swallow of the sour concoction. You smile at him, encouraging him to keep drinking and hoping that the gesture isn’t coming off as creepy as it feels.

“Oh, hey…Negan said he was going to see Simon. Do you have any idea why?” you wonder, trying to keep your tone as light and disinterested as possible.

“Probably going over inventory logs,” he answers. “Why?”

“I was just wondering how long he’d be gone. Gets boring and lonely in here, yanno,” you gripe sadly.

Joey grants you a pitiful smile, seemingly understanding your desire for company. “It’ll probably be a while,” he admits with a shrug.

You sigh with false defeat, subtly pouring the last of the lemonade into the glass and handing it to Joey. He finishes it quickly with another word of thanks and you head back into the room. Rinsing the pitcher in the bathroom, you leave it on the counter to dry. When you slip back into Negan’s room, you sit cross-legged atop his bed and wait for your plan to go into effect.

It doesn’t take long. After about 20 minutes, Joey taps lightly on the open door. You turn towards him, acknowledging him with a friendly smile as he takes a step inside the room. Based on the sheepish look on his face, you know your tactic has worked.

“Um…I have to…” he stutters, gesturing awkwardly towards the bathroom.

“Oh! Sure, go ahead,” you invite, drawing him right into your trap.

Joey comes inside, closing over the door to Negan’s room with a request for you to please stay put. You promise not to leave the room and usher him towards the bathroom. The instant the bathroom door shuts, you fly up off the bed.

Utilizing the very limited time you have without a pair of eyes on you, you streak towards Negan’s desk. With only a few days remaining before he takes you to Alexandria, you know this is your one opportunity to get what you need.

From the notepad on the surface of the desk, you flip to a blank page and delicately tear it from the spine of the book. You snatch a pen from the cup holding several writing utensils, glad that there’s enough other pens and pencils that it won’t be obvious one is missing. Deciding to see if there’s anything else you might find useful, you begin wrenching open the drawers as quietly as possible.

Flinging open the first drawer, you find nothing but some scraps of paper and a broken pencil. The next few drawers are much the same, containing nothing of interest. When you slide open the last drawer, the toilet flushes from the other room. You’re about to shut the drawer until you realize what you’ve found.

Tossing the colored pencil that rolls around the nearly empty drawer out of the way, you pull out the bit of folded parchment within. Based on the hue of the paper, you know it’s a set of blueprints; to what though, you aren’t yet sure.

You quickly gather your stolen supplies and run to Negan’s dresser, hoping he won’t notice that anything is gone from his desk. Slipping everything into the top drawer which Negan had cleared out to make room for your clothing, you hide the blueprints, paper, and pen beneath a pile of clothes. Joey emerges from the bathroom just as you pull a thin jacket from the drawer and slip it over your arms as you ease the drawer shut.

Luckily for Joey, he just barely returns to his post outside the door when Negan comes striding down the hallway. He sends Joey away with a customary belittling comment before shutting the door and coming back inside.

Adrenaline still pumps through your veins from your sneaky mission and you try desperately to calm yourself so Negan doesn’t suspect that you’re up to something. Curled inconspicuously on the couch with a book, you merely glance up at Negan and offer a tiny smile in greeting. He crosses the room and sprawls across the couch opposite you, watching you invest your attention in the pages in front of you.

The words blur together and you can’t make out a single one as your body sings with awareness, knowing that Negan is studying you. You do your best to relax your posture and keep your breathing steady, hoping the sound of your strained gulp doesn’t reach Negan’s ears.

“Did you behave yourself while I was gone?” he wonders with a soft murmur.

Eyes flicking swiftly to Negan, you’re sure you almost give yourself away with the guilt that’s written across your face. Clearing your throat in what you hope is a casual way, you gently close your book and settle it into your lap.

“I was an absolute angel,” you state, forcing a casual smile onto your face.

Negan is silent for a moment and the tension in the room grows. You’re unsure whether he’s just making conversation or he’s somehow aware of your scheme. Either way, you know you need to calm down and stop being paranoid before he catches on to your sketchy behavior.

Thankfully, before you can blow your own cover, Negan rises to his feet and locks the door, then climbs into bed. After a few minutes, he beckons you to join him, complaining that the light you’re using to read is keeping him awake.

In keeping up your illusion of obedience, you promptly join Negan in the large bed. He falls asleep quickly, but the stress of your possible suicide mission has you lying awake for at least a few hours before you eventually slip into a fitful sleep.

• • • • • • • • • •

The muscle-bound Savior seated in the chair outside Negan’s room spends his entire day scowling at you and you dare not attempt conversation with him. Though the absence of Negan helps, the presence of this specific guard is hindering the continuation of your plan for eventual escape. He refuses to take his eyes off you even for a moment and you can’t work up the nerve to continue with your plan under his watchful eye, though you’re steadily running out of time.

This is the third day this particular man has been assigned watchdog duty and with the scheduled run to Alexandria fast-approaching, you know you need to think of something. It takes a bit of brainstorming, but eventually you concoct a solution.

Peeking around the door frame, you clear your throat to get the attention of your sentry. In a soft voice, you let him know that you’re going to take a shower. You’re not sure why you feel the need to inform the man, but you figure it can’t hurt to appear as meek and subordinate as possible. Giving you permission, the Savior tells you not to lock the door, lest you get up to something disagreeable within the confines of the bathroom.

You release a shaky breath as you tread to the dresser and use your body to shield the objects you pull out of the drawer. Tucking the pen, paper, and blueprints between the garments you extract from the drawer, you hold them close to your chest and skitter into the bathroom.

Once inside, you let the water run and immediately yank the blueprints out from within the stack of clothes and unfold the thin sheet across the bathroom floor. Uncapping the pen, you begin making marks and notations on the blueprints, indicating the posts where you know guards are located based on what you’ve observed on your occasional strolls through the compound. As a final touch, you draw a huge ring around where Negan’s room is situated, overlapping the lines as you circle the location several times over.

Refolding the plans, you toss them to the side before pulling the single sheet of notebook paper from it’s hiding place. You quickly jot down what vague details you can remember about the route you’d been driven on your way to the Sanctuary. Lastly, on the bottom portion of the paper, you speedily scrawl a note for Rick:

_**I’m ok here, don’t worry. Here are directions to Sanctuary + positions of guards you’ll need to get rid of to get in. Come at night. Will make sure he’s where you need him so you can kill him.** _

Though you don’t write his name, you know Rick will understand the message well enough. You’re gonna hand Negan right over; together you’re going to take him down. Rick will get revenge for your people and you’ll get freedom from this prison.

Folding up the note as well, you grab the blueprints and place both papers on the counter. Unsure of how much time you’ve already wasted in here, you swiftly strip out of your clothes and hop under the spray of the shower. You remain there only long enough to soak your hair, then jump out and dress in your fresh clothes. Shoving your materials into the pile of dirty laundry, you make your way back out of the bathroom.

The eyes of the guard meet yours immediately and you act as nonchalant as possible. Dropping your dirty clothes onto the surface of the dresser, you slip the papers into the back pocket of a pair of folded cargo pants which you plan to wear to Alexandria. Whenever Negan decides to fetch you and take you along with him, you’re more than ready to execute your strategy.

Satisfied that your supplies are secured, you turn towards the bed and flop across the mattress to take a nap. You manage to fall asleep quickly, your body curled in the center of the mattress while you snooze.

A loud bang eventually rouses you from your slumber and you lift your head to find Negan slamming the door as he enters the room. Though he makes a ruckus upon his entrance, he doesn’t appear to be angry. That is until his eyes fall on the pile of dirty clothes you’d left atop his dresser. He approaches the piece of furniture, pointing to the offending articles of clothing.

“What is this?” he asks in annoyance. “How many times do I have to tell you to pick up after yourself?”

You jump into action immediately before Negan can go anywhere near your stash of stolen items. Pulling the garments into your arms, you walk them right over to the basket full of dirty laundry in the corner. With a timid apology to Negan and an assurance not to repeat your mistake, you drop the clothing into the hamper.

Your heart pounds as Negan glares at you, then turns away to go about his business and you reprimand yourself for the close call. Vowing not to do anything else to risk your trip to Alexandria, you resign yourself to lying low and bringing as little of Negan’s attention to yourself as you can manage.


	7. Tip The Hat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You receive an unexpected visitor and with it, a message that solidifies your belief that you’re doing the right thing by planning your escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This is a re-post as I previously deleted this story and it also appears on AO3 as an orphaned work.)

**tip the hat /tip T͟Hə hat/**  
_**verb**_  
**1\. To blow your cover, when hustling or gambling.**

The day before Negan has promised to bring you to Alexandria for a visit, the minutes seem to tick by even slower than usual. You wake earlier than most mornings and you just can’t seem to find anything to hold your interest long enough to distract from your excitement.

When Joey joins you to escort you to the dining hall around lunch time, you eat as slowly as possible just to have some extra time outside Negan’s room. As much as you’d like to take a stroll out in the sunshine, you know you need to be on your absolute best behavior right now. Rather than risk earning another punishment or any amount of anger from Negan, you allow Joey to drag you back to your prison.

Once inside, all you manage to do is pace back and forth across the expanse of the room, edgy and nervous for Negan’s arrival. Even taking a shower doesn’t seem to calm you down any as you pick up exactly where you left off as soon as you’re finished bathing. Though you try not to glance at the clock, you find yourself peeking at the slow-moving hands every few minutes.

Eventually, it nears the hour of Negan’s return and you decide a little sucking up isn’t going to hurt your situation any. Delving into his liquor cabinet, you procure a bottle of whiskey and pour a healthy portion into a clean glass. Your clammy hands fog up the smooth surface of the tumbler as you cradle it, waiting at the door for Negan’s arrival.

Before long, he shows up; crashing through the door with a blank expression on his face. For a brief moment, you second guess your plan, worried that Negan is in a mood and is going to take it out on your for daring to touch his alcohol. Instead, you find him glancing curiously at you as he drops his bat in it’s customary place near the door. He sheds his leather jacket and tosses it onto the bed as he approaches you silently.

“Hi,” you greet shyly with a simple smile.

Negan merely quirks an eyebrow, slipping the glass of whiskey from your hand before guzzling it down in a single go. Without a word to you, he slips past you and slams the empty glass down on the table. Shuffling tiredly, he makes his way into the bathroom and shuts the door with a gentle click then starts the shower.

Confused by Negan’s abnormal silence and lack of general, obnoxious cockiness, you stand in the center of the room for a moment. With a slight shrug, you turn around, your eyes falling on the bat near the door. Upon closer inspection, you can see the crimson color staining the weapon as well as the small puddle of liquid collecting beneath it. 

Knowing that Negan typically takes very good care of his tools and weapons, you decide to do him a favor by cleaning the bat. Clearly, there’s something up with him and you don’t want anything getting in the way of your trip tomorrow, so you’ll do what you can to improve his mood.

Grabbing the damp towel from your shower earlier, you wrap it around the filthy bat before moving to one of the cabinets hanging on the wall where you know Negan keeps a bottle of isopropyl alcohol. You find a dingy rag in there as well and gather that into your arms. Moving to the other side of the room, you lay your supplies down on the ground on the far side of the coffee table where a wide beam of sunlight filters in from the window.

Taking a seat on the floor, you cross your legs before setting to work. Spreading the towel out in front of you, you settle the bat into the center of it. You unscrew the cap of the rubbing alcohol and pour a generous amount into the dirty rag. Careful not to prick your fingers, you rub the damp rag between the blood-coated barbed wire, swiping over the glossy wood and whisking away the layer of drying blood covering the grain. You drag the cloth over every shiny barb, meticulously cleaning each one. You take your time to carefully cleanse the surface of the bat until it’s spotless, then use the corner of the towel on the ground to dry the shiny wood.

The sound of the bathroom door creaking open goes unheard as you hunch over Negan’s weapon, pulling it into your lap and making sure to dry every inch of the wood before ensuring you’ve removed all traces of blood and flesh. The sound of Negan muttering lowly to himself finally gets your attention and you peek over your shoulder at him.

The moment you look at him, his eyes immediately dart to the spot he knows he’d left his bat. In a flash, Negan’s expression twists into one of rage as he glances around the room. He seems panicked and angry and it’s then you realize he hasn’t seen you because you’re practically curled up in a ball and your small form is obscured behind the large coffee table. The absence of both his weapon and his prisoner sets Negan off and with a heaving breath he begins yelling and knocking things off the nearest shelf.

Before he can do too much damage, you sit up on your knees and pop up over the table. You call out to him, loud enough to be heard over his yells of rage. Upon hearing your mousy voice, Negan whips around, his expression barely calming when he sees you.

“Where the fuck is Lucille?! Did you take her?” he bellows, striding towards you with frightening speed and anger.

“Who’s Lucille?” you squeak, terrified and confused by Negan’s outburst.

Storming over to where you’re settled on your knees, you cower slightly at Negan’s aggression. His eyes fall to the bat still cradled in your hands before snatching it swiftly from your clutches.

“ _This_ is Lucille,” he declares holding the bat between you and glaring at you as if you’ve done something positively sinful.

“I was just cleaning it,” you whimper, thrown off by the man’s namesake for the wooden weapon as well as his complete overreaction to you having possession of it.

“Her,” Negan corrects.

“I was just cleaning her,” you amend, your words tinged with sass.

Negan calms down then, soothed by the fact that his beloved bat has been returned to him. He sighs heavily as his hands caress the pristine surface of Lucille and his eyes flicker back onto you.

“Good. That’s good,” he murmurs. “Were you gentle with her?”

“Um, yes?” you respond, your voice raising in question, unsure what the fuck Negan is going on about.

Negan’s mood seems to shift suddenly, heat seeping into his gaze as he licks his lips hungrily. “I think I kinda like that. My dirty girls spending time together and bonding,” he purrs. “Maybe I need to introduce you two properly.”

You barely have a second to ponder Negan’s odd statement before he grabs you under one arm and hauls you to your feet. Dragging you across the room towards his bed, Negan lays Lucille across the top of his dresser before he wrenches open a drawer and begins searching for something inside.

“Strip,” he commands, peeking over his shoulder at you.

You obey quickly, lifting your t-shirt over your head before slipping your pants over your bare feet and kicking the pile to the side. Keeping your underwear on, you wait patiently for Negan to turn his attention back to you. When he does, he holds a long, red scarf in his hands, threading it through his fingers as he tuts at you in disapproval.

“All of it, sweetheart,” he murmurs, gesturing to the garments that remain on your body.

Negan watches your every move as you drop your bra down your arms and drag your panties off your hips. When you’re undressed to his satisfaction, Negan moves in on you, pushing you to the corner of the bed. Your spine presses to the tall post of the bed’s canopy and Negan instructs you to lift your hands above your head.

His rough fingers skim lightly up the length of your arm before he gathers both of your wrists into one hand. Using the material clutched in the other hand, Negan wraps the soft scarf around your wrists and fashions a relatively tight knot. Tethered to the post and standing on your toes, your body is on full display.

Your spiking arousal is steadfastly replaced with apprehension when Negan reaches for his bat. Unsure what he intends to do with it, you squirm against your binds though the scarf merely stretches a bit, giving you no hope for escape. Negan smiles wickedly at your nervous shifting, tapping Lucille against the palm of his hand as he approaches. 

You jump when he swings Lucille in a wide arc then drops her between his feet, the wide end of the bat clattering loudly against the floor. Chuckling lowly, Negan glides closer until you can feel the warmth of his breath against your face. The fingers on his free hand make contact with your inner thigh and you inhale sharply at the contact.

Taking your reaction as a good sign, Negan walks his fingers up your bare leg. The closer he gets to your heat, the more tense your body grows, anticipating his touch. Negan hums long and low when the tip of one finger slips along your folds, feeling the moisture already gathering there. He wastes no time, using the evidence of your arousal to slick his finger before swirling it over your clit.

“Please,” you gasp softly.

A needy moan escapes you as Negan adds another finger, using several now to sweep through your sodden center. The muscles in your legs flex as you stand on your toes, desperately arching your hips closer to Negan’s touch. Amid your ecstasy, his fingers leave you bereft and wanting, but the warmth of his hand is quickly replaced by the sensation of something cool and hard.

Glancing down, you’re shocked to see that Negan has slipped his bat between your legs, using the end of the handle to press against your core. You whimper at the odd feeling, trying to escape the chill of the wood until the heat of your body warms the weapon’s surface and makes the sensation a little less unpleasant. Negan’s hand holds your hips in place, keeping you still while he rubs the knob of the bat against you. You can’t help the way your hips swivel, moving of their own volition to grind your swollen bundle of nerves into the hardness of the bat.

“That’s it, just like that,” Negan encourages, his fingers gripping the handle of the bat and thrusting it against you to reciprocate your heady movements.

The deep tones of Negan’s voice increase your growing lust and heat bubbles under every inch of your skin. You can feel your arousal dampening your thighs as Negan edges you closer and closer to an orgasm. The hand on your hip grasps your flesh tighter as Negan strokes the end of the bat even more firmly against your pussy.

“Cum for me, honey. Let’s get you nice and wet,” Negan prompts.

“Fuck,” you whimper, muscles growing more taught as your walls begin to clench around nothing.

Your orgasm comes on fast, starting from your toes and bursting through your veins until your body quivers under Negan’s ministrations. He encourages you, talking you through your climax as your juices drip onto the weapon clutched in his hand. Before you’ve recovered, Negan eases two thick fingers into your body. The digits stretch you a bit, though you find the pressure quite pleasurable.

The restraints around your wrists rub painfully against your skin and the post you’re tied to creaks under the weight of your body as you wriggle. Negan’s fingers sink deeper into you, scissoring apart and stretching your body further as his hand drives in and out of you. You mewl in pleasure, thighs shaking and squeezing around Negan’s hand.

Not allowing you to reach another orgasm, Negan removes his slippery fingers from your pussy, though it’s not long before you feel another pressure against your entrance. Standing on one foot, you try to raise your hips away from what you can only assume is Negan’s bat again, which he’s shoving determinedly against your dripping hole. A whine of protest squeaks out of you and Negan backs off, though he shoves your hips firmly against the bedpost.

“Easy, girl,” Negan soothes, his voice so smooth and soft as he tries to comfort you that it makes you uncomfortable. “I want you to get to know my Lucille, but you touched something of mine without my permission. You know you need to be punished.”

Hearing the warning tone in his words, you try to settle down. Your breasts jiggle as you pant lightly and you bounce gently on the balls of your feet. Negan senses your compliance and returns the end of his bat between your parted thighs. Taking a deep breath, you relax your muscles as Negan presses against you, dragging his weapon through your folds.

With a gentle push, Negan eases the wide end of the bat past your clenching hole, forcing it shallowly into you. Your breath catches in your throat at the near painful pressure, though you try not to move too much and increase your discomfort. Negan gives you a moment of reprieve, removing the bat from inside you as you sigh in relief. When he places the bat at your entrance again, you can’t help the grumble of complaint.

“Negan,” you whimper, knowing he isn’t going to stop until he gets what he wants.

“Be a good girl for me,” he cautions, relieving you of the invasive pressure as he unzips his pants with his free hand. “Trust me, you don’t wanna be on the wrong side of Lucille.”

Accompanying his warning, Negan swings the bat around, showing you the barbed end of it. He gives you a second to consider his words as he shifts his clothing, lowering the waistband of his underwear to expose his hardening length. Turning the bat back around, the end of it slips between your thighs and Negan immediately presses it up into you.

“Oh!” you cry, shocked by the suddenness of the contact against your pussy.

Negan moves quickly, gradually deepening the level of penetration as he impales you with the bat. Your knees nearly give out as the broad end of it finally pops past your tight muscles and the thinner portion of the handle slips more easily into your body. When Negan twirls the bat slowly, you nearly cum straightaway.

Hearing your wanton moans, Negan wraps his other hand around his throbbing cock and wrenches his fist over his length. He pumps his dick furiously as his thumb flicks swiftly over your sensitive clit. Thrusting the bat gently, Negan fucks you with his cherished weapon, pushing it up into you until the girth is too much for you to take. His face a picture of utter, twisted bliss as your juices leak down the surface of Lucille and coat his hand.

“Just like that, baby. Take all of her in that tight pussy,” he grunts.

As your body squeezes around the solid handle of the bat, Negan strokes his cock even faster. His breathing picks up and he steps closer to you, the knuckles of his shifting hand brushing against your abdomen. You explode with a keening cry, legs slamming shut around Negan’s wrist while his other hand works to achieve his own orgasm. With a throaty growl, Negan tips over the edge as well, his warm cum splashing across your lower stomach.

“Shit, you are magnificent,” Negan praises with a rasp.

Just as you’re both coming down from your climaxes, a sharp knock raps against Negan’s door. His head whips up, glancing in the direction of the entryway as his heavy breaths still swirl past your face. Thinking Negan is going to ignore the person outside, you panic when he adjusts his clothes and gradually slides his bat from your clenching pussy.

“Um…Negan,” you mumble when he tosses Lucille onto the bed and turns towards the door.

The only response you receive is a smug smirk and a hushing sound as Negan ignores your low pleas to be untied. You wiggle harshly when he quite literally leaves you hanging, desperate to cover yourself before he opens that door. With no slack in the fabric binding your wrists, all you manage to do is rub the skin raw in your efforts to escape.

Much to your disbelief, Negan swings the door open as if you aren’t dangling completely nude from his bedpost. Daring to peek around your strung-up arm, you see a slender man with stringy blonde hair waiting outside Negan’s door. You note the badly scarred half of his face as his bored expression quickly morphs to one of shock, then disbelief. He clears his throat uncomfortably, shifting his feet and looking down as Negan greets him.

Seemingly catching on to the man’s twitchy behavior, Negan looks over his shoulder at you, seeing what his visitor is seeing. He admires your sweat-slicked, flushed, and naked form with a smug laugh.

“Shit, don’t mind her, Dwighty Boy,” Negan declares excitedly. “My poor girl is all fucked out, she won’t even know you’re here. C'mon in.”

Turning away in shame, you drop your head and let your hair cover your face and serve as your only form of shelter from the awkwardness occurring with the man at the door. There’s a brief moment of hesitation before you hear Dwight’s light footsteps entering the room. No matter how uncomfortable he is, he knows as much as you do what will happen if he disobeys a direct order from Negan.

At the very least, you can see through the blanket of your thick hair that Dwight gives you the courtesy of keeping his eyes trained elsewhere in the room. You appreciate the small gesture, knowing that he easily could’ve taken advantage of your vulnerable position and gotten an eyeful.

Dwight begins speaking to Negan, launching into whatever message he’d come here to deliver. Negan listens as he steps up to you and reaches for your bound wrists. He loosens the knot absently, keeping his eyes trained on the Savior standing before him as his fingers work to free you. Dwight says something that captures Negan’s attention and he barks a question, the sharp tone of his voice prompting Dwight to glance at the pair of you just as your arms drop back to your sides.

You watch in horror as Dwight’s eyes scan quickly over you, likely spotting the splatters of drying cum across your belly. Heat blossoms in your cheeks and you try to sidestep around Negan to escape the tense situation he’s put you in.

Before you can move, Negan gathers both your wrists in his hand and holds you in place. Dwight looks on as Negan ducks his head and claims your mouth in a dominant and aggressive kiss. He attacks your mouth in such a way that you know he’s trying to send a clear message to both you and Dwight: you are his, and he’s going to make sure everybody knows it.

Feeling an emotion you can’t quite identify — and frankly, don’t want to — you pull at Negan’s tight grasp, staring down at the ground until he chooses to release you. Your feet immediately slap softly against the concrete floor as you totter quickly to the bathroom, slamming the door with as much restraint as you can muster before you promptly burst into tears while your back slides down the barrier between you and the cruel man outside.

• • • • • • • • • •

The next time you see Dwight, it comes as quite a surprise. He slips in one day when you’re alone in Negan’s room, somehow managing to talk his way right past the guard outside your door. Being one of Negan’s best and most trusted soldiers, you imagine Dwight hadn’t had to put much effort into weaseling his way in here.

You gaze at him with a questioning look upon his arrival, silently asking what he’s doing here. He stares back for a moment before telling you he’s here for keys to the armory. Based on things you’ve seen and overheard, you know that Negan keeps the keys to the gun stock in his room for a reason. The Saviors are only granted access to the weapons when Negan allows it; seeing as everyone in need of a firearm already has one and is out on today’s run, there’s no reasonable explanation for Dwight’s presence.

You know he’s up to something and is obviously going behind Negan’s back, but you also know that it isn’t your place to say anything. You can’t risk stirring up any trouble when you’re so close to getting back home. Besides, given the coup of your own that you’ve been formulating, ratting Dwight out will only make you a massive hypocrite.

“I know what he does to you…how he treats you,” Dwight murmurs, drawing you from your musings. “He treats everyone like they’re less. Like they aren’t even people. But he’s worse with you.”

You furrow your brow and purse your lips, unsure what Dwight is implying. He doesn’t know you nor does he know anything about the things that have transpired between you and Negan. Sure, he’d seen the aftermath of one of your most recent punishments, but as far as Dwight knows, Negan hasn’t hurt you. Degraded, manipulated, and used you, but never once had Negan physically harmed you. The one thing you can say for the man is that he’d been true to his word.

“You don’t have to confirm or deny it,” Dwight states. “It’s written all over your face…it’s in your eyes. You don’t deserve that. None of us deserves what he does to us.”

Studying Dwight’s marred face, you suddenly comprehend that Negan is the cause of his scars. You realize then that Dwight must understand more than anyone else what you’re going through if the wound on his face is any indication of what Negan has done to him. Perhaps he can relate to you more than you initially believed. He doesn’t want to be here any more than you do.

“I’ll help you if you help me. We can work together. We can take Negan down,” Dwight proceeds, whispering adamantly.

You consider Dwight’s words for a moment, trying to determine whether he’s being genuine or not. Having someone on your side would help, but maybe it’s too good to be true. Is it worth risking what you’ve planned for something that might just be a trick? Unable to help yourself, you blurt out the question that pops into your mind, not considering the consequences of the insinuation behind the words.

“If you wanna get rid of Negan so badly, why do you continue to do his dirty work?” you wonder skeptically. “Why keep going above and beyond for him if you hate what he does so much?”

“It’s my job,” Dwight hisses defensively.

“But if you hate him, why bother going out of your way to impress him? You’re no better than him,” you accuse.

“If you hate him so much, why are you still here? Still giving in to him and letting him use you the way he does? Everyone knows he doesn’t force women…not his wives, and not you,” Dwight counters haughtily. “Maybe it’s true what they say, then. You are a traitor.”

Your spine stiffens instantly at Dwight’s words. How dare he accuse you of such a thing? You’re still here because you have to be — to protect your friends, not because you’ve turned on them. You want nothing to do with Negan, but you’re cooperating for the sake of your people and for the sake of their safety. Negan hadn’t forced you to do anything, but you know any amount of refusal or disobedience will be met with swift punishment. You’re continuing your relationship with Negan to save your people. Right?

The jingling of the stolen key-ring Dwight shoves into his pocket grabs your attention and he glares at you, awaiting your response.

“I can’t help you, I’m sorry,” you apologize.

You aren’t refusing because you’re on Negan’s side, but for the opposite reason. With the prospect of losing the trip to Alexandria Negan has so generously agreed to, you’re doing anything you can to cover your own ass. Getting involved in whatever Dwight is up to and possibly getting caught is going to ruin any chance you have of getting out of here. You’d much rather have only yourself to blame for any mistakes than have to worry about anyone else bringing you down with them.

The frustrated sigh that leaves Dwight’s mouth precedes the rattle of Negan’s door as he slams it behind him. Plopping down on the edge of Negan’s bed, you huff in annoyance. You have no idea what Dwight is doing, but you vow to keep his secret if only for the sake of staying out of trouble long enough the execute your own plan of escape from Negan’s tyranny.


	8. On Tilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your plan proves unsuccessful and you land more than just yourself in some hot water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This is a re-post as I previously deleted this story and it also appears on AO3 as an orphaned work.)

**on tilt /ôn tilt/**  
_**adjective**_  
**1\. To suffer an upset prompted by a previous loss that leads to use of bad judgement.**

You’re up and dressed before the sun has fully risen, brimming with excitement and nerves as Negan takes his time preparing for the run to Alexandria. He pays you no mind, going about his business while you’re practically bursting with energy, willing the minutes to tick by faster. 

Just when you think Negan is ready to leave, he radios down to the kitchen and requests some food for breakfast. You barely stop yourself from tossing your body on the floor and kicking your feet like an unruly child. Negan can sense your anticipation and something tells you he’s doing this on purpose, making you wait for what you want.

When the food arrives, Negan gestures you over to the table, demanding that you eat with him. Too excited to stomach anything but a few nibbles of toast, you’re finished within minutes and resign yourself to waiting for Negan again.

“You barely touched your food,” Negan points out around a mouthful of bacon.

“I’m not that hungry,” you admit.

Sighing heavily, Negan points his fork in your direction. “You need to fuckin’ eat,” he snaps.

“But I just said I'm–,” you begin, halting your retort when you see Negan’s disapproving glare.

“Eat,” he growls. “We aren’t stepping a foot outside that door until you eat everything on that plate.”

You huff quietly and roll your eyes — much to Negan’s displeasure — though you lift your fork and begin to pick at the food in front of you. Trying to ignore the gaze you can feel from across the table, you eat small mouthfuls of eggs and bacon, chewing slowly. When you look up at Negan and he grants you a smug half-smile, you nearly stick your tongue out at him. Unsure what kind of reaction your brattiness will be met with, you merely turn your eyes back down to your plate.

Try as you might, you can’t finish all the food piled on your plate and you set your fork down before looking up at Negan with a rueful expression. He raises his eyebrows for a moment before rolling his eyes at your sheepish face.

“You done?” he quips sarcastically, scoffing at your nod of confirmation. “Look at you wasting my damn food.”

Though his tone is playful, you still feel the need to apologize to Negan. You hadn’t even asked for the food, but you do feel badly about letting it go to waste. Food is a resource and it’s one you hate to take for granted.

“Better go to the bathroom now because we ain’t stopping once we get out there. I don’t care how bad you gotta piss,” Negan informs you as he reaches for your plate and dumps the scraps of food onto his own.

Hopping up, you slip into the bathroom and relieve yourself before moving to wash your hands. At the sink, you glance up into the mirror as you scrub soap between the spaces of your fingers. Staring into your own eyes, you give yourself a mental pep talk. You know you need to have faith in yourself today. Any amount of doubt or hesitation could potentially ruin your scheme. You’re going to be successful. You’re going to set your plan into action. You’re going to start the beginning of the end of Negan.

A loud knock against the door accompanies Negan’s instruction for you to hurry up. You obey, drying your hands quickly and coming out of the bathroom where he waits for you. Slipping on his leather jacket and snatching up his bat, Negan opens the door for you, letting you out into the hallway. Before you get past him, he grips your elbow gently and tugs you close to him.

“Are you gonna behave today?” he wonders lowly. “Prove to me we’re on the same page…that you’re cooperating?”

“Yes,” you assure him with a nod, making sure not to seem to eager.

“Good girl,” he praises with a smile. “C’mon. Lots to do today, not a minute to waste!”

You keep pace with him as he whistles jauntily and strides down the hall to the rear entrance of the Sanctuary. You enjoy the sunshine and fresh air for only a few minutes as Negan leads you towards the cargo trucks waiting in the courtyard, lending you a helping hand to push you into the high cab of one of the vehicles.

The vibrations coursing through your limbs are due in part to your jittery muscles and partly because of the vehicle rumbling beneath you. You almost feel relieved as you roll past the gates of the Sanctuary, though the thick, folded paper burning a hole in your back pocket prevents you from relaxing entirely. Hyper-aware of the hidden documents, you sit stock-still beside Negan, refusing to even look his way so you don’t bring attention to yourself.

It doesn’t take long before Negan remembers that you’re sitting beside him, and you tense all over again when he reaches over and pulls you into his lap. Shifting your weight, you tip your body so you’re resting more on one hip and the contents of your pocket don’t press into Negan’s lap.

You panic instantly when his warm palms land on your thigh and your lower back, worried that his wandering hands are going to discover the thick bulge stuffed deep in your pocket. You hadn’t considered him getting handsy on the drive to Alexandria, though given Negan’s reputation, you probably should’ve been better prepared for this exact situation.

“We need to set some ground rules, babygirl,” Negan purrs against your neck, the use of the sweet pet-name already setting you on edge.

“Okay,” you force out past the knot forming in your throat, trying to ignore the sensation of his warm lips against your flesh.

Patting your thigh gently, Negan launches into his spiel, letting you know what he expects. “When we get there, you are not to leave my side. Not for any reason. You don’t talk to a single goddamn person unless I tell you to. When I tell you that you’re allowed to, you’ll have 5 minutes to see everyone and let them know you’re okay. You talk about nothing else. Don’t touch or take anything,” he continues in a business-like tone. “When I tell you we’re done, you don’t talk back…you march that pretty little ass right back into my truck, climb up into my lap just like this, and you say thank you. Got it?”

“Got it,” you nod, fighting against the disgusted scowl that Negan’s dominant words produce.

You try to relax your stiff limbs as Negan’s hands begin to knead the flesh of your hips and thighs. His fingers slip closer and closer to your ass, heading directly towards your back pocket. Squirming a bit, Negan realizes you’re uncomfortable and chuckles lightly as his hands fall stationary. As you see Alexandria in the distance, your thoughts drift away from Negan for a brief moment until he leans in to mutter in your ear.

“What do you say?” he implores with a sly whisper.

“Thank you for taking me with you,” you state blandly, cringing at your own words though you know it’s in your best interest to let Negan think you’re playing right into his hands.

“You’re welcome, angel,” he coos, pressing a light kiss to your temple.

Uncomfortable with Negan’s strange and unfamiliar kindness, you’re grateful when the truck rolls to a stop just outside the perimeter of Alexandria. Barely waiting for Negan’s permission, you hop out of his lap and climb down out of the truck. He joins you, placing a hand on your lower back as he leads you to the gate and smashes Lucille against the fence, alerting the community to your arrival.

Within a few minutes, the gates slide open and you spot several familiar faces within. You nearly burst into tears at the sight of your friends, relieved to see that everyone seems to be in one piece. You want nothing more than to run towards them and gather any one of them into a hug, just for a moment of peace; anything for the illusion of safety and the feeling of being home. You hold back, however, waiting for Negan’s permission before you dare interact with anyone.

Plodding along at his side, you see Rick emerge from the crowd and Negan’s face instantly lights up. You remain silent until Negan is finished addressing and berating Rick, making a point of mentioning that he’s kept his word to all of you and expects your continued cooperation with all of his demands. Before Negan has a chance to authorize any interaction between yourself and your previous leader, a gunshot blasts from a nearby house.

“What the fuck?” Negan snarls, swinging Lucille up from beside his long leg to prop her over his leather-clad shoulder. “Stay right there,” he barks at you, prowling down the street in the direction of the fired gun.

Hardly believing your luck, you watch Negan’s retreating back until the sight of his dusty leather jacket disappears further into the community. Tearing yourself out of your state of disbelief, you turn to Rick. Meeting his gaze, you jump into his outspread arms straightaway. Rick yanks you close, squeezing you to his broad chest.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I’m so sorry I let this happen.”

“It’s okay, Rick. I’m okay,” you state, voice quivering.

You shed a wave of tears upon hearing Rick’s sincere apology. Sniffling lightly, you reciprocate his tight hug, crying harder the more he whispers about how sorry he is that he allowed Negan to take you away.

“It’s not your fault,” you assure him with a tearful smile. “Someone had to go with him and you know we all would have been fucked if you tried to stop him. You couldn’t fight him. But don’t worry…I’m dealing with it as best I can. I can handle it if it means you guys are safe.”

“You shouldn’t have to make that kind of sacrifice to protect us,” Rick debates, placing his hands on your shoulders. “We shouldn’t have to live like that. I’m gonna get you out of there as soon as I can. You have my word…I’m gonna bring you home.”

Rick’s words remind you of the whole reason you’d been so determined to get here in the first place. Shuffling closer to Rick, you huddle near him and try to use his body as a shield from the lingering Saviors wandering around the community as you let him know you have to give him something. You dip your fingers into your back pocket, fighting to wrench the clump of folded paper out of the tight pouch. Just as you reach out to pass the handful of documents to Rick, a deep voice has you nearly jumping straight out of your own skin.

“We passin’ love notes over here, kids?” Negan jeers, ripping the papers from your delicate fingers.

Your heart thuds painfully in your chest, trying to break through your ribcage as you watch in utter horror while Negan unfurls your secret note. The smile slowly melts from his face, his expression growing increasingly dark and dangerous as his eyes scan over your scribbled handwriting. Negan’s upper lip visibly twitches before curling upwards in an enraged sneer.

“Oh, God,” you utter under your breath, the sound of the shaky words barely audible.

“Did you really think you could outsmart me? Think again my sweet, naïve little girl,” he states in a disturbingly cold and even tone.

With that, Negan snatches your wrist with excessive force and drags you away from Rick as he tucks the papers into his jacket pocket. Glancing in the direction of a small group of Saviors, Negan pauses momentarily to address them.

“Round everyone up!” he demands loudly. “Someone find Simon and let him know I’m taking one of the trucks. He can hitch a ride with the rest of you shits.”

You freak out then, concerned as to why Negan is dragging you away with the intention of leaving on his own without Simon. No part of what is unfolding here is going to end well for you and you pull desperately against Negan’s bruising grasp. He pays no mind to your jerking motions, only clenching your thin wrist tighter and tighter until you cry out and are forced to cease fighting him as he moves towards the caravan of trucks.

“Negan, please…don’t,” Rick begs, following closely behind the pair of you.

You’re forced to stop when Negan whirls around with impressive speed, pushing you behind his back as he faces Rick. Snatching a pistol from the hands of a Savior standing beside him, Negan aims the gun directly at Rick.

“You’re gonna wanna back the fuck up, Ricky,” Negan growls dangerously, cocking the hammer of the gun in warning. “I warned you people again and again, but you still push me. I warned her, I gave her the chance to prove to me that you all understand how things work, but she went and fucked it up for all of you. Big time. Someone’s gotta pay the price, Prick.”

Confident that Rick is not going to protest any further, Negan continues toting you along until his hasty steps halt again. The sinister grin showcasing his glinting teeth terrifies you, your stomach plummeting as you can see the wicked wheels turning in his head. Seemingly unsatisfied with punishing only you, Negan takes things a step further. His fingers scratch absently through his short beard when he turns around with unsettling glee and observes the gathering crowd of Alexandrians.

“Dwight!” he calls, prompting the thin man to step forward. “Get…hell’s his name?” Negan asks, pointing to the greasy, grimy figure standing beside Rick.

“Daryl,” Dwight supplies.

“Shit, that actually sounds right!” Negan crows. “Grab Daryl and load him up. We’re takin’ him too.”

More tears stream down your face as you unleash a litany of pathetic pleas, begging Negan not to hurt anyone else; failing miserably to convince him to only punish you for your transgression. Negan ignores you entirely, marching towards the front entrance with determined, enraged speed.

Shaking and petrified, you trip over the uneven pavement when Negan shoves you beside the truck you’d arrived in. As much as you don’t want to go anywhere with the volatile and pissed off man, you want to leave before Negan has the chance to initiate any further damage. You’re all too aware of the threat Negan had made to reveal to Rick that you two have been fucking and that’s the only reason you willingly climb into the cab of the truck. As Negan slams the door behind you, you chant a mantra over and over in your head, begging Negan not to drop the sordid bomb about your relationship just for the sake of getting his revenge.

You briefly consider bolting from the truck as Negan circles the front bumper to get behind the wheel, but you don’t have a death wish. When he joins you inside the truck and tosses Lucille near your feet, you curl into yourself, pressing your body as far as it can go against the door just to put some distance between you and Negan. He starts the engine and speedily tears out of Alexandria, not speaking a single word to you as he drives wildly down the road.

As the vehicle bounces over the rough terrain, you find yourself sparing a thought for Daryl. You have no idea why Negan wants him or what he plans to do with him, but you pray he isn’t harmed because of what you’ve done. Guilt is already eating at you as you swipe the back over your hand over the residual tears drying on your face and wait to see where Negan is taking you and what he plans to do with you.


	9. Margin Of Error

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You pay the price for your mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This is a re-post as I previously deleted this story and it also appears on AO3 as an orphaned work.)

**mar·gin of err·or /märjən əv erər/**  
_**noun**_  
**1\. A measure of how much angle, position, or speed error you can have while still pocketing the object ball and getting in position for the next shot.**

With Negan’s complete lack of yelling or anger directed your way, you stupidly begin to think you might be out of the woods. That is, until he slows down the truck and pulls over onto the side of the road. After a moment you hear the sound of approaching vehicles and realize the rest of his men are coming up behind you. Negan lets the truck sit idle as he reaches out the window and signals to the rest of the Saviors to keep driving.

You watch the other trucks as they rumble by and it occurs to you that there’s one missing. The van you’d seen Dwight toss Daryl into isn’t in the line of vehicles and you really start to worry about him then. You have no doubt in your mind that Negan is more than willing to kill someone else to punish you for your misdeed.

Before you have a chance to continue agonizing over Daryl’s fate, Negan shuts the engine and you’re sure this is going to be the end for you too. Assuming that Negan is finally going to kill you, you dare to look in his direction; studying his tense body as he continues staring straight ahead.

Much to your surprise, your close assessment of his body language draws your eyes to the massive erection he’s sporting between his parted thighs. As soon as you notice the sizable bulge, Negan reaches for his belt and loosens it. His fingers deftly pop the button of his pants open before his hand delves inside to slip his thick cock out of his underwear, leaving it to bob in the open air.

“Take off your pants,” Negan demands in a deceptively calm voice, finally shifting his icy gaze over to you. You clam up at his instruction, not moving a single muscle. “Take off your fuckin’ pants or I’ll do it for you. I’m not gonna tell you again.”

Accompanying his terse words, Negan slides a hand towards his hip, tapping his fingertips along the handle of his knife. It’s a clear threat, pressuring you to obey unless you’d rather Negan hurt you. As strange as his request is, following along is preferable to pissing Negan off and having him punish you more severely. Besides, letting Negan have his way with you isn’t the worst thing you could be doing, no matter how odd the timing of it may be.

With shaky hands, you reach down to unlace your leather boots and slip them off your feet, dropping them to the floor with a thud. You twist your body around, lifting your weight so you can wrench your pants down your legs and remove those as well. Negan wastes no time instructing you to slip your panties off too, demanding that you hand them over to him. You do so obediently and he instantly tucks them into the pocket of his jacket.

You settle against the sticky vinyl beneath your bare lower half and clench your thighs to hide your inexplicable arousal, hardly believing that Negan has dragged you all the way out here just to fuck you in his truck. Given his sadistic and conniving disposition, you have a niggling feeling that there’s something more going on. 

Regardless, you know you just need to submit to him and do what he asks of you. If he wants to fuck you like a whore to make a point of putting you in your place and reminding you how much control he has over you, you suppose that’s better than any other malicious punishment you know he’s capable of.

“Come over here,” he orders impatiently, not tolerating any more of your hesitation as he grabs you the second you’re within his reach.

Negan yanks you brutishly into his lap, pulling you down onto his thighs and facing you towards the windshield. You plant your hands on the seat on either side of Negan’s legs as he tucks his hot and hard length between your thighs. He pushes the velvet-covered steel of his erection through the tight space of your clamped legs, though he makes no attempt to impale you on his angry, throbbing length.

“You have two seconds to sit on my fucking cock before I shove it up your ass and fuck you until you’re crying,” Negan warns you with a growl.

Not willing to be a victim to Negan’s savagery, you do as he says without pause. Wrapping a dainty hand around the base of his pulsing manhood, you raise your body above him. You angle his dick, swirling the spongy head around your entrance to collect some of the juices dripping from your body before you drop your hips and take Negan all the way inside you.

Your startled gasp mingles with Negan’s deep groan as he immediately drives his hips up into you. Sensing his determination to take you as violently and forcefully as he can, you brace a palm on the roof of the truck’s cab to stop your head form cracking into it as Negan fucks up into you harshly.

“Shit,” you hiss, the power of Negan’s canting hips taking your breath away.

Bouncing sloppily in Negan’s lap, you have no choice but to take each and every one of his vicious thrusts. His thick cock slams into you, brushing against your cervix repeatedly with uncomfortable force, though the way his length rubs against your walls dulls the unpleasant pressure. Your body tenses as your orgasm approaches, though with the intentional lack of stimulation on your swollen clit, you know you won’t be granted any form of release.

When Negan’s merciless thrusts have you screaming so loudly that you drown out the sound of your sweaty flesh crashing together, Negan wraps a strong hand around your throat to stop the noise right away. Using your free hand, you claw at Negan’s knuckles, desperate for him to let you go and allow you to breathe. After a particularly deep scratch against his hand, he relents only fractionally, giving you enough air to remain conscious but not enough to inhale comfortably.

“Do you want me to bring you back to Rick and let him watch you getting your pussy stuffed full of my huge cock?” Negan hisses, using his grip on your neck to pull your cheek against his own as you shake your head vehemently. “No? Then you’re gonna repeat every goddamn thing I tell you to or I will turn this truck around and drag you back there so every one of your fuckin’ friends can see the way you’re fuckin’ dripping for me right now.”

You nod your head, not entirely of your own volition but subconsciously and in the interest of avoiding the embarrassing spectacle Negan proposes. The coarse hairs of his beard scratch against your cheek as you nod, burning the skin slightly. Negan pumps his hips several more times, prompting a cacophony of rattling moans from you before he presses his lips to your ear to whisper fervently.

“Say ‘I’m your dirty little whore, Negan’,” he seethes, arching his hips to fuck you so deeply it borders on painful.

“I’m your dirty…little…whore, Negan,” you whimper brokenly as he jostles your body.

“Louder!” he demands lowly with another ardent thrust.

“I’m your dirty little whore, Negan!” you repeat, screaming his name when his gloved palm slaps firmly against your swollen clit.

You writhe wildly in his arms, unsure whether you’re trying to shift closer to his pummeling cock or trying to climb off of it. Either way, Negan holds you in a vice-like grip, refusing to let you get away from him as his hips move with a fluid and belligerent rhythm. The wetness slipping from your full pussy mitigates Negan’s movements, allowing him to take you with impressive speed and ease.

“Now say ‘fuck me harder’,” Negan murmurs heatedly against the side of your neck. “Nice and loud for me.”

“Fuck me harder,” you sob, your thighs shaking as you feel yourself nearing an explosive orgasm while Negan’s leather-covered fingers circle your bundle of nerves.

“You gotta say the magic word, baby,” he taunts. “Say please.”

“Please,” you whimper weakly, desperate for Negan to give you some sort of relief.

“Tell me this pussy is mine,” he demands with a raspy growl.

“This…fuck, this pussy is yours,” your voice cracks around the words and your cheeks heat up in embarrassment as Negan continues driving his hips upward; his girth stretching you and creating a dizzying amount of friction within your slippery folds.

Negan grunts and groans enthusiastically, the sounds vibrating through his chest and shaking your body as he holds you close to him. You’re powerless to do anything beyond melting into him and allowing him to continue using you and wreaking absolute havoc on every nerve ending in your body.

“You love my cock, don’t you, my dirty fuckin’ girl?” he coos, his tone edged with malice.

“I love your cock,” you shriek, not needing to be reminded to parrot his words back to him this time.

Pleased with your obedience, Negan wraps an arm around your hips and pulls you even harder onto his pounding dick before holding you firmly in place as he shoves his length as far as it will go inside your pliable body. His gloved fingers tap insistently against your core before slicking over the base of his cock where it protrudes from your glistening pussy. Negan wrenches a ragged scream from your raw throat when he pinches your sensitive clit, forcing you to clench around his length with incredible force.

“Such a good girl, that’s it,” he encourages. “Always so fuckin’ good for me. I know you wanna cum all over my fuckin’ cock…just like that. God, you feel all that fuckin’ cream comin’ outta you? You got me soakin’ wet, honey.”

You pant and moan as your body quivers and your pussy ripples around Negan, urging him towards his own orgasm. Before he releases within you, he shoves you carelessly from his lap and sends you tumbling to the floorboard between his booted feet and the pedals of the truck. One leg presses against the surface of Lucille, her sharp barbs digging painfully into your flesh as you shift against the floor of the cab.

“I know how much you love when I fill your tight little cunt up, but this time I’m gonna cum right in that pretty mouth,” Negan informs you darkly.

Yanking your tangled hair, Negan hauls your face between his thighs and presses the tip of his slick cock to your mouth. You part your lips straightaway and he thrusts upwards while simultaneously jerking your face into his crotch, forcing you to swallow every inch of him.

The series of gags that tighten your throat prevent you from being able to suck Negan off the way he wants you to, but he makes up for it by stroking his length along your tongue and down your throat. He growls for several seconds before tugging your head back and pulling his pulsing dick from between your lips. With one hand squeezing your jaw with bruising force and the other pumping furiously along his leaking cock, Negan directs you to open your mouth seconds before he floods the orifice with his hot cum; some of it missing your mouth and landing on your upper lip and cheek.

“Swallow every fuckin’ drop, babygirl…you earned it,” he snarls loudly, continuing the tugging motion of his hand until he’s completely spent.

Negan taps the head of his cock against your lips, shaking the lingering drops of cum from the tip before he snaps your mouth shut. Staring you down, he keeps your jaw closed as you hold his seed in your mouth, waiting for the moment he releases you so you can spit it out before he has a chance to stop you.

“You let any of my cum drip out of that hot little mouth and I’ll make sure you lick it up off the fuckin’ floor,” he warns, seeing the defiance swirling in your eyes.

Deciding it isn’t worth fighting back, you surrender and swallow loudly, gulping down all of Negan’s thick cum. He watches you closely, quirking a disapproving eyebrow at you when you try to pull away from him. You drop your jaw open, showing Negan your empty mouth and letting him know that you’ve obeyed his command.

Without a word, Negan drags his half-hard cock across your upper lip and over your cheek, collecting the remnants of his cum on the tip. Speaking lowly, he instructs you to suck the sticky, white fluid from his dick, pressing his softening length into your mouth until you’ve done so to his satisfaction.

“Say thank you,” he whispers callously, a smirk lifting his lips when you perform without hesitation.

“Thank you, Negan,” you sniffle pathetically.

Negan lets you go then and as you move to pull your pants back over your weak legs and climb into your seat, a loud electronic beep fills the steamy cab. You look up and try to determine the source of the odd sound. When your eyes fall on Negan, you quickly realize it had come from the walkie-talkie he extracts from beside his thigh to cradle in his large palm as he tucks himself back into his trousers. Your stomach churns when — more specifically — you realize the sound had come from him releasing the push-to-talk button, which means the line had been open through the entirety of you two fucking just now.

In a moment of horrifying clarity, you recall all the things you’d said in the last few minutes; all the things Negan had _made_ you say. A smug, victorious grin splits Negan’s lips as he watches the realization dawn on you and before he even opens his mouth, you already know who had been on the receiving end of the radio. Depressing the button again, Negan looks you directly in the eyes with a chilling smile as he speaks confidently into the receiver.

“You get all that, Dwighty Boy?” he crows.

Your throat dries up upon hearing the confirmation and nausea washes over you when you recall that Dwight’s van was the only vehicle you hadn’t seen heading back to the Sanctuary, meaning he’d remained back at Alexandria. With Daryl in his possession, he had stayed back with Rick and several other members of the community who were around when Negan carried you away. There’s no doubt in your mind that this had been Negan’s plan all along — to let you think that you had gotten away with what you’d done, believing that he’d forgotten his promise to tell Rick your secret in the event that you fucked up.

“Loud and clear, boss,” Dwight responds swiftly, his tone devoid of all emotion.

You despise the sound of Dwight’s nasally voice filtering through the tiny speaker, the sound nearly making you retch in disgust. Remembering how Dwight had offered to help you and asked you to team up with him, you loathe him for turning his back on you today. You know he could’ve prevented Rick from having to hear any of what just happened without Negan ever having to know, but as usual, Dwight had gone along with Negan’s commands like a whipped little bitch.

“Bet ol’ Ricky got off on that, huh?” Negan boasts into the radio. “I mean, shit…did you hear the way my girl was screaming while I was balls deep in her hot, wet little pussy? I gave it to her real good, 'cause I know she usually wants it rough. And goddamn that shit is hot as fuck, am I right?! Sweet thing just can’t get enough of my big fuckin’ cock! Cums like a damn fountain every time I touch her.”

Incapable of blocking out Negan’s loudly spoken and crude statement, your gut twists as he laughs heartily; the disturbing sound trailing off with a breathy, contented sigh as you hang your head in shame. Tears flow down your cheeks, your eyes no longer capable of containing the gathering moisture. Just like that, your plan had backfired and ruined any chance you’d ever have of getting away. Even if Negan ever lets you go after this, Alexandria will never take you back now that they think you betrayed them to sleep with the enemy.

Caught up in your head, you barely register the sound of Negan continuing to taunt Rick over the walkie-talkie. He carries on for several minutes, speaking in vulgar and disgusting ways about you before promising Rick that he will take good care of you. He finishes out the interaction with one of his infamous threats, letting Rick know that the punishment you’ve earned for your people is not yet over.

“Alright, wrap it up, D,” Negan instructs. “Bring that filthy asshole home with ya. We’ve got some business to handle with my boy Daryl!”

With that, Negan tosses the radio onto the dash and turns the key in the ignition to start the engine. Even over the thunderous sound of the truck, you can hear Negan humming happily to himself. The sound sickens and enrages you, though you do your best to ignore it. Staring out the window beside you as tears continue flowing, you decide that if you’re going to die anyway, you might as well go out making sure Negan knows what you think of him.

“You’re a disgusting piece of shit,” you blurt out.

An amused cackle bursts from Negan’s lips and his teeth are on full display as he laughs at your comment. You know he’s just doing it to get under your skin and you hate to admit that it’s working. Turning to face him, you stare daggers at the side of his face, clenched fists vibrating with anger in your lap.

“Fuck you!” you cry, chest heaving.

“You just did, sweetheart,” he purrs, unaffected by how pissed off you are. “Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten,” he laments, holding a hand to his chest in false offense.

Unable to stop yourself, you lash out at Negan. Pitching sideways, you reach for him, your small hands instantly aiming for the thick column of his throat. The moment your fingers wrap around the warm flesh, you squeeze with all your strength. Negan slams on the brakes, sending your body flying, though you refuse to unlatch your hands from around his neck. He grinds the gearshift into the parked position before his fingers dig painfully into your hips and he tosses you onto your back on the bench seat, hovering over your prone form.

“Let. Go,” he wheezes around the force crushing his windpipe.

You shake your head, teeth bared and sobs flowing easily from your lips as your entire body quakes with the effort you put into choking Negan. His hands shift from your hips to your elbows, slamming into the crooks of your arms and forcing them to bend. You still don’t release him and Negan tries another tactic, wrapping his fingers around your wrists and squeezing until you feel the joints grind and pop. With a howl of pain, you’re forced to let Negan go.

He instantly pins your hands beside your head, panting and coughing above you with an expression of rage and disappointment. You cry even harder, frustrated and defeated as Negan looms threateningly over you.

“You’re already in a shitload of trouble. I promise you don’t wanna make things worse for yourself,” Negan rasps. “You pull another stunt like that and I’m gonna punish you so badly, you’re gonna be begging for me to kill you.”

Declining to meet Negan’s eyes, you turn your head to the side and bury your tear-soaked face against your arm. He holds you in place a moment longer before lifting you into a seated position and shoving you towards your side of the front seat. Dropping back behind the wheel, Negan shifts gears and takes off at a frightening speed, his knuckles white as he grips the wheel tightly.

After a few tense minutes, you shift your body again to put as much distance between yourself and Negan. Swiping roughly at your moist cheeks, you huff churlishly and cross your arms like a petulant child. You’re pissed at yourself for failing to execute your plan and you’re pissed at Negan for ruining everything and being too damn smart for you to get away with anything.

“Everything that happens to you is your own doing. Just keep that in mind, sweetheart,” he drawls in exasperation, trying to make you understand. “You have no one to blame but yourself.”

“Leave me alone,” you pout, daring to talk back to Negan without considering the consequences.

“Knock it off with the attitude,” is the only warning Negan delivers, though his snarled tone lets you know just how unhappy he is to see you still refuse to submit to him.

Falling silent, Negan increases the speed of the racing truck, guiding the vehicle expertly along the bumpy road. He offers no further threats of belittling words and you keep your mouth shut as well. With nothing else to do, you consider what other opportunities — if any — you’ll have to get away again as Negan whisks you away back to your prison.


	10. Double Dip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your punishment isn’t over yet and somehow this is worse than anything Negan has done to you previously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This is a re-post as I previously deleted this story and it also appears on AO3 as an orphaned work.)

**dou·ble dip /dəb(ə)l dip/**  
_**verb**_  
**1\. To beat a player twice in a row.**  


Your knees impact painfully against the concrete floor when Negan shoves you forcefully into his room. Throwing your hands out to catch your fall, your palms slap against the ground as you try to crawl away from Negan. The entire ride back to the Sanctuary, he’d been a rollercoaster of varying moods; shifting from cocky and teasing to angry and riled up. His current state is the latter as he hovers over you, Lucille hanging at his side and lips pulled back in an enraged snarl.

He’d spent every minute you were trapped together in that truck pestering and berating you until you’d eventually lashed out and talked back, something Negan is none too pleased with. No matter how many times he teases and goads you, you always find yourself letting Negan anger you to this point and earning yourself a punishment in the process. Perhaps eventually you’ll learn to keep your mouth shut; you know if Negan has any say in it, he’ll make damn sure you learn to do so.

Cowering against the far wall, you press your back firmly to the solid surface and curl into yourself, suddenly well aware of how much trouble you’re in for what you’ve done. You’d survived the drive back to the Sanctuary, but there’s no doubt in your mind now that Negan is finally going to acknowledge your wrongdoing and punish you accordingly. Negan’s boots scuff against the ground as he approaches with intimidating slowness before crouching near your folded knees. His face is a mask of barely restrained rage, his eyes swirling with fire as he observes your nervous form.

“I can’t imagine how the fuck you thought you were gonna get away with any of that,” he rasps lowly, shaking his head. “Do you think I’m a fucking idiot?”

You shake your head lightly, lips quivering while you fight back tears as Negan’s words confirming your worst fears about what’s to come. Though his tone is quiet, the underlying iciness laced in his words has you on edge, waiting for the imminent explosion. When Negan reaches for your legs, you nearly let out a frightened whimper.

“What am I gonna do about this?” Negan hisses, dragging your body closer to his. “How many times do I need to remind you who you belong to before you finally get it through your head?”

As he speaks, Negan’s fingers thread through your hair and he tips your head back. He looks down at you, studying your face in a cold and clinical way. His thumb traces your lower lip and he sighs as his other hand reaches for his belt. Panic washes over you as you catch on to what Negan is about to do, and you fight against the hand tangled in your hair. As terrified as you are about the consequences, you’re more afraid of what Negan is capable of doing to you if you give in.

“No,” you whine, shuffling backwards and trying futilely to free yourself from Negan’s grip. “No, no, no.”

The word spills from your mouth in a frantic litany, tears finally flowing from your eyes as you try to put a stop to Negan’s disagreeable advances. It’s the first time you’re refusing to have sex with him and you’re terrified to see what kind of punishment your resistance will be met with. You continue flailing, wrapping your hands around Negan’s wrist in an attempt to wrench his hand out of your hair. He finally releases you, though he snatches your arm up instead and jostles you slightly to get your attention. He’s even angrier now and you worry that he isn’t going to heed your rejection.

“No? Are you telling me no?” he barks, making sure to confirm your refusal. You nod your head vehemently, refusing to meet Negan’s eyes. “So you’re saying you don’t need to be reminded who you belong to? Is that what you’re telling me?!”

Negan’s irate words startle you and you know no matter how you respond, it’s going to be the wrong answer. Admitting you need a reminder is going to land you in a position you don’t want to be in right now and denying the necessity to be taught a lesson will only be seen as disobedience. Instead, you remain silent, crying quietly as Negan breathes heavily in front of you.

“You don’t make the rules here, sweetheart,” Negan growls sternly. “You still need to be punished. Not like this. But you aren’t getting away with what you did. I’ll find another way to show you who you belong to, rest assured.”

The vexation that flows through you upon hearing Negan’s words brings with it a bout of foolish bravery, and you can’t stop the words you snap in his direction. “I’m not yours!”

You can hardly believe the sound of your own sharp voice and the instant the words flow from your mouth, you know it’s going to bite you in the ass. Negan’s face contorts into an expression of frightening outrage and indignation. He rises to his full height, tossing his bat across the room as he begins to pace back and forth in front of you. A vibrating hand lifts to rub across his stubbled chin as he barely manages to reign in his boiling temper. You can hear his labored breaths amid his stomping footsteps and you brace yourself for what’s coming.

“This shit just isn’t gonna fly, not one bit of it,” Negan states, his voice surprisingly controlled. “You have no idea what kind of shitstorm you have coming your way.”

Still pacing, Negan’s fingers slip into the pocket of his jacket and extract a piece of paper. It takes you a moment before you realize he’s holding the note you had tried to hand to Rick. Crumpling the paper in his fist, Negan laughs coldly as he whirls around to glare at you.

“You tried to fuckin’ kill me and I absolutely am not gonna let that shit slide,” he howls, shaking the piece of paper in your direction. “You continue to break the rules and fight back and now you’re gonna see why that was a stupid fuckin’ thing to do!”

With that, Negan hurls the crumpled bit of paper at you, bouncing it off the floor so that it hits your leg and lands beside you. He rants and raves, exploding in a frightening rage as he scolds you for ever thinking you could take him down.

“You’re nothing but a warm body,” he snarls evilly, dipping his fingers into his pocket again and whipping your stolen panties at you so they hit you in the face. “You’ll never be good for anything else. You think you’re smart enough to get one over on me? No, sweetheart. I’m too fuckin’ good at this shit…you will never fool me. I’ll make damn sure you never get the idea that you can…ever again.”

You don’t move an inch or make a sound, simply hoping that Negan’s tantrum will fizzle and he’ll leave you alone. It takes a few minutes of his continued threats and angry words, but you finally get your wish. Stepping close, Negan spits on the ground next to you before grabbing his bat and striding from his room with a promise to see you very soon as he locks you within.

The moment he’s gone, you cry even harder, sobbing loudly as you bury your face in your hands. You’re feeling equal parts relieved that Negan hadn’t forced you into something you didn’t want to do and anxious about how he’s going to remedy your lack of punishment. For now, you know you need to calm down and get yourself together before he comes back for you.

You allow yourself to cry for a few minutes before taking several deep breaths and wiping the moisture from your face. Eyes puffy and burning, you sniffle as you climb to your feet and shuffle tiredly to the bed. Curling up at the bottom, you wrap your arms around your body and shut your swollen eyes. You lose track of how long you lie there motionless, unable to do anything other than think about what’s to come. The sound of the door unlocking fills you with fear and you pretend to be asleep in the hopes that Negan won’t disturb you.

“Get up,” his cold voice snaps, strong fingers wrapping around your upper arm as he drags you to your feet.

Unable to fight against his strength, you stumble to your feet. Negan barely gives you a moment to balance yourself before he’s pulling you out of the room and down the hall. You trot awkwardly behind him, barely keeping up with his lengthy strides as he directs you through the hallways and down a flight of stairs. Slipping through a heavy door, it dawns on you that he’s taking you to the basement; it’s the only place in the Sanctuary you’d been banned from visiting until now.

“Dwighty Boy, you’ve got yourself an audience today,” Negan announces with enthusiasm.

Shoving you ahead of him, Negan stops you in front of a steel door which he instructs Dwight to unlock and open. You have a pretty good idea what you’re going to see inside, though that doesn’t prepare you when you finally do look.

Curled in the corner is Daryl, dressed in filthy tan fatigues with no socks or shoes. He peers up at the three of you through the stringy, greasy strands of his hair. You can’t see most of his face, but it’s obvious from his body language that he’s pissed off. There’s blood on the front of his shirt, however you can’t tell if it’s his or not. Dwight steps into the dark cell, blocking your view of Daryl for a moment.

You step back, unintentionally bumping into Negan when Dwight aims a swift kick at Daryl’s gut. He lets out a pained grunt and Negan places his hands on your shoulders and pushes you back into the doorway. Tears start to flow from your eyes for the second time today as you watch Dwight continue to land punches and kicks, filling the hallway with Daryl’s groans.

As horrible as the sight is, you can’t seem to tear your eyes away. Much like a car accident, you need to see this; you need to remind yourself just how evil Negan is. You can’t let him charm his way into your good graces anymore, you need to remember who he is and what he does.

“That’s enough, D,” Negan calls out, finally halting the disturbing display.

Without a word to you, Negan hauls you backwards, carting you back to his room. Each step you’re forced to take multiplies your anger, though you revel in the feeling. This is good, you muse, this is what I need. I need to be angry. I need to keep fighting. When you reach Negan’s door, he shoves you into his room again and you twirl quickly, pushing his hands off of you. The action doesn’t go unnoticed by Negan, who raises his eyebrows at your defiance.

“I hope that little show sent my message loud and clear,” he drawls, stepping closer to you. “You know better than to fight back now, right?”

You don’t know why you say it or where you even find the courage to do so, but the words rush from your mouth unbidden. “I’ll never stop fighting. Not until I’m good and dead. I’ll never give in and I’ll never be yours.”

Negan merely smiles, a cold and disturbing grin lifting his lips as he chuckles humorlessly at your ballsy attitude. You both know his brutal display was meant to put you in your place, but it had accomplished the exact opposite. All you want to do now is fight back and take Negan down to get Daryl out of here and save your people from Negan’s wrath.

“We’ll see,” Negan murmurs shortly, surprising you when he steps around you and offers no further reaction to your disobedient statement.

• • • • • • • • • •

You knew mouthing off to Negan was a mistake, you just didn’t know how bad the consequences were going to be. Though you’d only done it once and have since been cooperating, Negan is still making you pay for it. Every single day since you’d stood up to Negan, he makes sure to bring you to Daryl’s cell. He wants to ensure you get a good look at what’s happening and what’s going to happen to your comrades simply because you tried to conspire against him and still refuse to give in to him.

Day in and day out, you’re forced to watch Dwight torture Daryl and it begins to wear on you. Though he has never actually hurt you physically, Negan has managed to hurt you plenty of other ways. His punishments are always psychological, a sick game to tear you down and force you to submit; a power play designed to exert control over you. However, this is by far the most appalling thing he’s done to you.

Rather than harm you or discipline you directly, Negan has proven he’s far too conniving for something so simple and easy. Instead, he targets the things and people you care about. In that way, he guarantees your full cooperation, knowing you won’t risk the safety of the people you call your friends. Plus, he knows you don’t want to add to the damage he’s already done by revealing to Rick that you’d slept with him. It’s a disgusting, twisted, but effective way of lording his power over you. He swore you would pay for any indiscretions and he has surely kept his word.

The sound of Daryl’s cries of pain ring in your ears as your thoughts run amok, mulling over what a sadistic bastard Negan is. You cover your mouth to quiet your whimper when Dwight pulls Daryl to his feet and punches him in the mouth. Having seen enough of your friend being tortured, you turn your head away. Negan is having none of it, however, and he grips your jaw to hold your head in place.

“You take a good, long look at what you’re doing to him,” Negan demands angrily. “If you don’t fucking watch what you caused, it’s only gonna be worse for him.”

Sobbing weakly, you allow Negan to turn your head towards Daryl, though you stare distantly at the wall and refuse to actually watch what’s happening. You can’t block out the muffled thumps of Dwight’s blows, though, and it’s your own personal form of torture having to witness this. No matter how much you struggle and fight and cry, Negan shows absolutely no consideration for your feelings. He’s determined to break you and eventually, he does.

The following night, he continues with your recent routine of having to see Daryl’s daily beating. Today, however, Daryl is naked; shivering in the corner surrounded by Polaroid photos of Glenn and Abraham which sit beside a puddle of his vomit. The lack of clothing lets you see how thin and frail Daryl has become, not to mention all the cuts, bruises, and burns that cover every inch of his body. His entire form vibrates as he weeps, the gut-wrenching sounds wracking his body and breaking your heart.

You stand numbly in the doorway, watching as Dwight flicks a lighter and approaches Daryl. Grabbing the crying man’s hand, he holds the lighter up and shifts it closer and closer to Daryl’s fingertips. Agonized yells echo off the walls as Dwight scorches each of his fingers and the nauseating scent of burning flesh fills the air.

“Why are you doing this?” you sob as Negan forces you further into the doorway of the cell. You collapse in his arms, imploring him to hold you up as your weak legs give out and your chest constricts so harshly you can hardly breathe.

Tears pour down your blotchy face and Negan finally drops you, causing a yelp of pain to burst forth when your knees crash against the cold, hard floor. You slam your eyes shut, but even then you can still picture the sight of Daryl being harmed because of you. Even over the sound of your own weeping, you can still hear his grunts and groans as Dwight begins kicking the shit out of him.

“Why, why, _why_?!” you scream in distress, repeating the word over and over until Negan yanks you to your feet and whips you around to face him.

“The fact that you even have to ask that just tells me you aren’t paying attention,” he offers emotionlessly. “I’ll keep trying until I get through to you.”

Negan turns away then, calling over his shoulder to Dwight and instructing the man to escort you back to the room once he’s finished with Daryl. Free from Negan’s hands, you press your back to the wall outside Daryl’s cell and drop your weight to the ground. You clamp your hands over your ears though it doesn’t do much in the way of blocking out the horrid sounds emanating from inside the cell. You rock back and forth, crying and muttering to yourself until it’s over.

When it grows quiet, you flick your eyes open and find Dwight’s lanky form hovering over you. With his blood-soaked hands, he grabs you by your elbow and lifts you to your feet. You feel the slick crimson liquid smearing across your skin and your throat tightens with guilt. It’s all your fault that Daryl is suffering. It should be you in that cell getting tortured, not him; you’re the one who deserves to be punished.

With a scathing glare and a snide comment that borders too closely on ' _I told you so_ ', Dwight pushes you forward, directing you towards Negan’s room. You drag your feet, wanting to avoid seeing the man for as long as possible. When you reach the detestable red door, you don’t even register the noises coming from inside until you’ve reached out and eased the door open.

“Oh God, Negan. Yes, yes, yes!” a feminine voice wails.

Your steps halt and your eyes are instantly drawn to the sound, alerting you to the two bodies occupying the bed you’ve been sleeping in. Recognizing Negan’s red-headed wife, Frankie, your brain can’t decide between anger, hurt, or jealousy. You know you should feel nothing since you aren’t one of Negan’s wives or even a lover, really, but still the sight fills you with a conglomerate of negative emotions.

Perched on his knees behind the slim woman, Negan slams his hips against her, pummeling her with his cock. Her entire body jostles violently and Negan’s face is strained with the effort he puts into fucking her. Frankie screams and moans in immense pleasure, too caught up in her own bliss to even realize you and Dwight are standing in the doorway.

“That’s it, baby,” Negan encourages, lifting his eyes to meet yours with a devious smile. “Best fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever had. So fuckin’ tight. Come on, honey…cum for me.”

As if on cue, Frankie gasps loudly and her body convulses as her climax washes over her. She squirms on Negan’s cock as he grinds his hips against her, cooing softly to her as she settles down. You decide you’ve seen enough now and turn to run from the room, but Dwight grasps your shoulder, holding you in place and forcing you to keep watching. Within seconds, Negan pulls his swollen cock from Frankie’s body, wraps a hand around his length and pumps until his cum splatters across the sheets beside her.

It’s then that Frankie realizes you’re there and a look of shock passes over her face. She sits up and covers her bare breasts with her arm as Negan climbs off the bed and slips a pair of boxers over his trim hips. Slicking a hand through his damp hair, Negan slaps Frankie’s ass and tells her to get dressed before turning his attention back to you.

“Sweetheart…here. Now,” he directs, pointing to the spot in front of him with an expectant expression.

Against your better judgement, you do as he asks and enter the room. As you slowly pass by Frankie while she dresses, she at least offers you an apologetic look. Her eyes are sad and full of pity and for whatever reason, her compassion prompts a fresh wave of tears from your bloodshot eyes. You reach Negan, tensing up when he grabs your chin and tips your wet face up as his lips meet yours. You barely reciprocate the gesture and when you spot Frankie watching uncomfortably from the corner of your eyes, you’re sickened by Negan’s transparent motives.

A kiss is meant to be an affectionate and intimate thing shared between two people. With Negan, it’s anything but. He uses it as a weapon, a tactic. He never kisses you when it’s just the two of you, he never kisses you the way you — for whatever reason — used to want him to. He always does it as a show of ownership and dominance; only ever claiming your mouth in front of his men or his wives, letting them know exactly what you are and who you belong to. Every time he does it, it leaves you feeling more and more empty and used; it’s just another chink in your ever-deteriorating armor.

Negan pulls away from your mouth with a knowing smirk before pecking you on the lips one last time. He slaps Frankie on the ass once more and playfully tells her to get lost, showing her more affection than he ever has since you’ve known him; just to rub your face in it and show you what you could’ve had if you’d only followed the rules. Negan shuts the door behind Frankie before he flops onto his side of the mattress.

“Come to bed,” he beckons lowly, as if nothing has happened, as if none of the events of the last couple hours had transpired at all.

You glare at him in disbelief, not moving until he repeats the command more sternly. Wandering to the other side of the bed, you stop at the edge and glance down at the sheets in disgust. There in the center of the bed is a damp spot, a mixture of cum and bodily fluids from the offensive activity you don’t even want to think about.

“I don’t wanna sleep here,” you sniffle childishly, your voice wavering with hurt and nervousness.

“Get in the bed,” Negan commands, growing irritated with your defiance.

You shake your head weakly, your face screwing up as you begin to cry again. You know you should stop fighting Negan, but you can’t bring yourself to let him degrade you. A scared sob escapes your lips when Negan sighs deeply and you know he’s getting angry with you again. You’re tired and upset and overwhelmed; you can’t take much more of Negan’s mistreatment and games. Remaining rooted to the spot, you shake and cry, swiping at your leaking eyes as you look up at Negan’s cold, unaffected face.

“Honey, believe me when I tell you that you don’t wanna keep playing this game with me,” Negan drones in warning. “The more you push back and disobey me, the worse this gets. I don’t want to punish you again, but you’re doing it to yourself. Now get the fuck in the bed because if I have to drag you over here myself, you’re gonna wish you were down in that cell with your boy Daryl.”

With a frustrated growl that would normally earn you some form of punishment, you drop to the edge of the mattress. Though you give in, you keep your body as far from Negan as possible, practically hanging off the edge of the bed and turning your back on him. When Negan reaches for you and tries to drag you to the center of the bed, you wrap your fingers around the corner of the mattress and refuse to budge. He chuckles lightly at your feistiness and you think you’ve won until he jerks your body ferociously, sliding your hip right through the damp spot in the center of the bed as he braces his body over top of you.

“Who do you belong to?” Negan whispers fiendishly, cruelty burning in his eyes and evil oozing from his wicked smirk.

He knows how much you hate answering that particular question and how much your fiery independence and pride don’t want to yield to him. His insistence for you to answer right now is even more malicious, especially given how you recently told him you would never submit to him and never be his. Suddenly, all the fight flees from your body. There’s no point in staying strong anymore if it’s just going to put everyone around you in danger. All your earlier pain and hurt fade until you’re left with nothing; no emotions and no reaction to Negan’s heartless endeavor.

“Negan,” you mumble in defeat as you give him exactly what he wants, your mind blank, your eyes free of tears, and your heart vacant.


	11. Break And Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Provided with a second chance to get away from Negan, your result isn’t much better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This is a re-post as I previously deleted this story and it also appears on AO3 as an orphaned work.)

**break and run /brāk and rən/**  
_**verb**_  
**1\. A victory in which you pocket a ball on the initial break and clear all remaining balls without giving your opponent an inning at the table.**

The aftermath of Negan’s latest punishment has left you sad and despondent, feeling about as dead inside as the flesh-hungry biters wandering around outside the walls of your prison. You’ve lost all privileges and freedom, though you’d expected as much. Relegated to only Negan’s room with only his company, you can feel your sanity slipping. You can barely eat or sleep and it’s beginning to have an affect on you. Negan hasn’t attempted to touch you again at all since the last time, though that doesn’t make you feel any more comfortable with having him around you.

You’ve given up your fight against Negan, however that hasn’t stopped him from continuing to force you to see Daryl each day. His brutal treatment has been reduced to mere imprisonment, but you know the second you act out or disobey, Dwight will be there to offer yet another beating. Unfortunately for both of you, that day comes sooner than you’d expected.

After spending days in Negan’s bed, he requests that you take a shower one day while he’s away. Too depressed and tired to do so, you merely ignore the command, choosing to remain in the bed for the entirety of his absence. When Negan returns later that morning to find you in the exact spot he’d left you, his caustic temper makes a reappearance.

“Are you fucking kidding me with this shit?” he growls. “You really want me to make your life miserable, don’t you?”

Jerking you from the bed, he shoves you into the bathroom where he shreds your filthy clothes off your frame and pushes you into the lukewarm water of the shower. You offer no resistance, merely allowing Negan to cleanse your hair and body to his satisfaction. He’s thorough and attentive, though far from gentle as he’s clearly fed up with your constant defiance.

Standing dripping wet and naked before him, you make no effort to cover your bare body. You just don’t care at this point. Not even bothering to meet his eyes, you simply stand there as he dries your body roughly and fights with your limp limbs to redress you. As angry as Negan is, it seems to stem more from frustration than from disapproval. Regardless, you still garner a brief punishment for disobeying his command to bathe earlier this morning.

Dressed only in a baggy t-shirt and sleep shorts, you slip your boots on at Negan’s request and follow drearily behind him as he leads you to the basement. You want to be bothered and angry that you’re now being punished for every little thing — or rather, Daryl is — but you just don’t have it in you to care anymore. Rounding the corner, you spot Dwight perched in a chair outside Daryl’s cell, reading a book. He stands quickly and unlocks the door, letting light spill in over the sleeping man within.

“D, you know what to do,” Negan intones, directing you forward before turning back down the hallway, but not before he slips in a hurtful remark. “You’ve been real good lately Dwight…I think maybe you deserve a reward. Take her back with you when you’re done, I’m sure she’d love to spend the afternoon in bed with you.”

Your mouth pops open at Negan’s crude comment and you finally feel the return of some sort of emotion. You’re disgusted that he’d just offered you to one of his men as if you’re an object to be passed around between them. Somehow something as simple as that statement reignites the raging fire within you and your desire to get away returns full force. You have to get out; even if it ends up costing you your life, you need to escape this hell.

“Hey,” Dwight finally calls to you once Negan is gone. “I’m not gonna hurt him. I told you we can work together and I’m giving you one last chance. I can get Daryl out, but I need you to cooperate.”

As he speaks, Dwight closes in on you, stepping too close for comfort. Bothered by his proximity and the fact that you’re finished cooperating with people who are just out to harm you, you explode.

Digging your fingers into Dwight’s blonde tresses, you yank him forward and down as you bring your leg up, your knee meeting him halfway and colliding with his pointy nose. You can already see blood pouring from his nose and dripping in big, round droplets at your feet. Before he has time to recover from the blow, you thrust him sideways and smash his skull into the concrete wall. He slumps feebly to the ground and you’re unsure if you’ve knocked him out cold, but you know it’s enough to disorient him so he can’t get back up as you turn and make a break for it.

With Daryl’s raspy voice calling after you, you screech to a halt and offer a swift look over your shoulder at him. Remaining rooted to the spot, you try to make a decision and make it fast. You can’t get out together, but you can’t leave him behind.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath as he catches up to you. “I’m gonna make a run for it. Wait until they see me and when they’re distracted, you get the hell out of here. You won’t have a chance otherwise. Even if they catch me, you have to keep going. Negan probably won’t kill me, but I don’t know what will happen if he gets to you. Promise me you’re gonna go, Daryl.”

“You can’t go out there on your own,” he contends lowly. “We can both escape if we go together.”

“No, we can’t!” you debate hotly. “We both know Negan will kill you if you get caught. You’re the one who needs to get away, not me. Please.”

With a defeated sigh, Daryl has nothing more to say. Before he has a chance to argue further, you take off running. Locating a door to the outside, you barrel through it, stumbling out into the courtyard. Clouds cover the afternoon sun and a steady rain pours from the gray sky. Realizing the weather is probably going to work in your favor, you head for the front gate.

Off to one side, you see a line of trucks and a small group of Saviors preparing for a run. Though you don’t see him, you know Negan is among them somewhere. Moving quickly before anyone has a chance to spot you, you jog rapidly across the gravel. For once, you’ve been blessed with some good luck and the falling rain aids in disguising both the sound and sight of you heading for the opening in the fence. On top of that, you have the rumbling engines and the distraction of all the prep work on your side. By the time anyone notices you, it’ll be too late.

Halfway to the open gate, you hear the sound of Negan’s voice. You should’ve know he would be the first to spot you on the way out. His deep voice thunders, hollering up to the guards to shut the gate. Thankfully, the pounding rain and running engines drown out his words just enough that you can slip out before he alerts the guards to your presence.

Summoning every ounce of strength and energy you possess, you sprint full speed to the perimeter fence and slip out of the Sanctuary grounds. The damp clothes clinging to your body immediately begin to chafe uncomfortably against your shifting limbs, but you pay no mind to the irritating sensation. You make it only a few hundred feet before you hear the approaching vehicles over your shoulder, though you’ve made it much further than you ever expected you would. Not daring to turn around and determine how close they are, you continue running for your life.

The caravan of cargo trucks catch up to you in no time and when you hear them slow, you finally glance backwards and spot Negan swinging his lanky form out of the leading truck and onto the road you’re running down. Redoubling your efforts, you manage to run even harder. Negan takes off in pursuit, chasing you as you both tear down the rocky road.

The Saviors driving the trucks keep up with Negan, ready to lend a hand at a moment’s notice. Realizing that once Negan enlists the help of his able-bodied men you’re going to be caught, you hang a sharp right. You change course swiftly and head for the woods, determined to evade capture.

“You don’t wanna fuckin’ do this!” Negan screams in a rage, easily keeping pace with you.

You don’t stop for anything, not even when Negan continues yelling after you and warns you that you’ll die out here on your own. You’d rather that be your fate than to fall back into the clutches of the cruel man pursuing you. Though your limbs grow weak with exhaustion and your clothes grow heavy with the collecting moisture of precipitation, you keep going; forcing yourself past your limits in a desperate attempt to escape Negan.

Though he’s impressively fast and agile, you continue to outrun Negan. He manages to close a good amount of the distance between you, but you’re smaller and more nimble than him. The ability to navigate the thick brush more swiftly than he can gives you and edge and before long, Negan is too far away for you to even make out the words he continues to bellow in your direction. You carry on still, not stopping until you’re absolutely sure that you’ve lost him.

Once you feel safe and can no longer hear neither his voice nor his thunderous footfalls, you drop to the sodden ground and burst into tears. Mud engulfs your hands as you curl your fists into the earth and the dirt stains the skin of your bare knees. You roll over and fall to your side then, wheezing and panting as you try to catch your breath. You manage to crawl a considerable distance before your screaming muscles give up and your body collapses against the forest floor.

Propping yourself against a boulder buried in the slimy leaves, you realize what a foolish plan this had been. Beyond your initial escape, you hadn’t thought a single part of this out. Dressed in minimal clothing and with absolutely no supplies, you know you have no chance of survival out here, especially in this weather. Still, you’re so relieved to have gotten away that the reality of your situation doesn’t sink in right away.

However, when it does, you wonder how much you’re going to suffer before you die. Even if Negan doesn’t manage to eventually track you down and slaughter you, the elements are sure to take you out in no time. The chill coursing through your body due to your wet clothes and the dropping temperature promises to do exactly that.

• • • • • • • • • •

Night falls long before you have the energy to bother moving again and the pouring rain has been relentlessly soaking your frail body. By now, hypothermia has already started to set in. The joints of your icy limbs are stiff and painful and cause you to move jerkily as you finally manage to stumble through the woods.

You do your best to force your body into motion, hoping to produce some body heat, but it’s too late. Your teeth chatter noisily and your lungs burn, struggling to inflate while your muscles protest your every step. You don’t make it much farther before you collapse into a crumpled heap once more, unable to gather the energy to carry on.

As your eyes fall shut and you feel your body slipping into unconsciousness, you find yourself regretting ever trying to escape the Sanctuary. It hadn’t been all that bad there, and if you had just followed Negan’s rules, it may have even been a decent life. It certainly would have been better than where you are now. Either way, it’s too late to turn back now. All you can do is pray for a speedy death to end your suffering as soon as possible.

You’re sure you’re either going into shock or perhaps already dead when you think you feel a pair of warm arms wrap around your torso. Unable to move, all you want is to scoot closer to the heat and you groan in frustration at your inability to do so. You feel as though you’re in a dream as your body is lifted from the ground and it seems like you’re floating. Another distraught sound leaves your ice-cold lips as you’re hauled closer to the pleasant heat.

“I’ve got you,” a deeply pitched voice assures you, sounding to you as if you’re trapped under water.

Your limp body dangles and sways as you’re moved elsewhere, though you’re unable to decipher any of the sounds or sights swirling endlessly around you. The gruff voice speaks again and while you can’t make out any specific words, you’re hit with a brief moment of clear-headedness. You recognize the owner of the voice and somehow the shitty situation you find yourself in immediately gets so much worse. _This can’t be happening_ , you complain mentally, _this can’t be how I go. Not with him there_. If you were capable, you would scream in agony that even in death, you couldn’t truly escape Negan.

Through the haze of what you believe to be your body dying, you’re only able to make out bits and pieces of what the familiar voice says. ‘ _Stupid. Stubborn. What did you do? Not thinking_.’ Still mostly out of sorts, you vaguely register several other voices as well as the faint smell of cigarette smoke as your body is carried toward an increasingly annoying growling sound.

You can feel yourself being lifted and slid into what you can only assume is some kind of vehicle. The blazing heat that blankets you as you’re moved out of the rain surrounds your frigid body and you revel in the feeling. The warmth permeates the icy tips of your fingers and as feeling returns to your extremities, you realize how much pain you are in. It feels like knives and pins are stabbing you all over, battering every inch of your skin and you whine in protest. If this is what death feels like, you’ve promptly changed your mind about wishing for it.

The musky scent of leather invades your senses when a heavy weight wraps around your shoulders. More weight crushes against your body and you’re faintly aware of the pressure of a hard, uncomfortable object beneath you. You manage to identify the shape as another body before your own body finally starts to come back from the precipice of death and you become increasingly aware of where you are and what’s happening.

“Hand me that blanket,” the raspy voice commands before you’re swaddled in even more warmth.

The spicy, masculine scent assaulting your nostrils is the first thing you’re distinctly aware of and it’s what eventually assures you that you haven’t actually died — this is very real. Wrenching your heavy eyelids open, you glance down at a pair of sinewy, tattooed arms cradling you within a heavy leather jacket and a woolly blanket. Though your cold, wet clothes still cling to your chilly skin, the combined heat of the blanket and the arms surrounding you warm you back up quite rapidly.

You start to piece the puzzle together then, beginning to remember how you got here in the first place. Apparently, Negan had somehow managed to find you out there and rescued you — for some damn reason. Daring to look up at the man, fear shoots through you when you see Negan is already staring pointedly at you. There’s absolutely no question of the rage burning in his eyes — he’s fucking pissed. He hasn’t killed you yet, however, and that has to be a good sign, right?

The drive back to the compound is uncomfortably silent as you remain utterly motionless in Negan’s lap. Enveloped snugly in his jacket and with the heat inside the truck on full blast, you’re feeling more like a human being and less like an ice cube in no time at all. You almost find yourself wishing you hadn’t recovered so fast as that may earn you some mercy from Negan if he thinks you aren’t quite up to par for handling any punishment.

Sooner than you’re ready for, the truck pulls into the Sanctuary gates and Negan immediately lifts you up and carries you inside. You tuck your face under the blanket cloaking your shoulders, enjoying your last moments before you have to face the consequences of your actions.


	12. Scratch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Negan pushes too hard and with another attempt at escape, the third time truly is the charm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This is a re-post as I previously deleted this story and it also appears on AO3 as an orphaned work.)

**scratch /skraCH/**  
_**noun**_  
**1\. An error in which a player pockets the cue ball by accident during a shot.**  


Negan drops you unceremoniously to the ground at the end of his bed, though he at least makes sure you’re balanced before he pulls his hands away from you. Right away, he unravels the heavy blanket from your body and removes his jacket from your hunched shoulders, dropping both in a soggy heap on the ground. You offer no protest when he peels your saturated t-shirt and shorts from your shaking form, adding them to the discarded pile at your feet along with your underwear.

Now fully naked, you wrap your arms around yourself, goosebumps spreading along your arms and legs as you wait for Negan to give you a set of dry clothes. He doesn’t, but rather looms over you, offering you nothing but a cold, angry glare. Water drips from the ends of your drenched hair, your teeth chattering as the chill of the air in the room wracks your body with shivers. Wordlessly, Negan grabs a clean towel and sweeps it over the residual moisture remaining on your skin; his growing anger causing his hands to move jerkily.

The continued silence from the raging man has you on edge and you find yourself wanting him to yell or scream or punish you. At least that would be better than the simmering, brooding waves of fury pulsing off of him. You no longer possess the strength to fight and you’d rather get Negan’s punishment out of the way so you can go back to suffering in solitude until you go home or until you die here — whichever comes first. You have no idea what’s coming to you, but you want to get it over with so you don’t have to live in constant fear of what’s going to happen.

For whatever reason, you had expected some semblance of kindness from Negan given your current condition. Considering that you’d been so desperate to escape that you had risked your life, you hope he has mercy and lets you off easy; maybe he can understand why you had to do what you did.

Unfortunately, you receive the exact opposite and Negan snaps violently. The sharp sting across your cheek catches you off guard as Negan slaps you so hard to stumble into the plush mattress. Shaken up by how suddenly he’s lashed out, you twist your body and immediately attempt to crawl to the other end of the mattress.

Still not speaking, Negan latches on to one of your ankles and yanks you backwards, dragging you back to the foot of the bed. Before you have a chance to get away, he lifts your ass towards him and spanks you several times. The heat that blazes across your bare skin reminds you of the exposed and defenseless state you’re currently in. With a whimper and a squirm, you’re unsuccessful in escaping Negan’s clutches.

Hauling your body over the edge of the mattress, Negan steps up behind you. Braced on your elbows, you use what little energy you have left to extract yourself from beneath the weight of Negan’s hips, but he easily pins you in place. Pressing against you, Negan makes sure you can feel his growing erection through his water-logged pants and you cry out at the pressure. The mere though of having to endure that kind of punishment is enough to bring tears to your eyes and the salty moisture drips onto the comforter below you.

Unaware of your mental frailty and just how vulnerable you are right now, Negan continues slapping your ass. The force of his blows jostle your body and sting your skin painfully, though he pays no mind to your startled and uncomfortable sounds. You whimper pathetically each time his wide palm connects with your tender flesh before Negan eventually launches into a loud, irate rant.

“Do you have any idea how fucking stupid what you did was? You could’ve gotten yourself killed…you almost fuckin’ died! You fuckin’ risked the lives of every goddamn man I had to send out there to fuckin’ track you down! You wasted my time and my resources. Don’t you ever, ever fuckin’ pull that shit again…do you fuckin’ hear me? If you so much as think about trying something as fuckin’ stupid as that, I will leave your sorry ass out there to die,” he roars, his palm slamming into your reddened ass repeatedly.

His furious words frighten you and you know better than to respond verbally. Instead, you sniffle and sob, your body tense and your eyes squeezed shut as you wait for this to be over. You know you deserve so much worse for acting out and for putting any of Negan’s people in danger, though that doesn’t make this any easier to endure.

“I should fuckin’ go to Alexandria and kill every one of those stupid little shits for what you did,” Negan threatens with a wrathful hiss. “Then I’ll come back here and make you watch me cut every fuckin’ body part off your boy downstairs. Better yet, I’ll make you do it. And then when you’re done, I’ll wring that pretty little neck until the light leaves your eyes. I’ll fuckin’ cut you and all your people into itty bitty pieces and feed you to the dead outside my door, I swear to God.”

A shudder ripples through your body at the icy tone of Negan’s words and you know how serious he is. You’ve pushed him much further this time and it’s no wonder he’s ready and willing to kill you for your refusal to obey his simple rules. For a moment, you find yourself wondering if any of this had been worth it; you’re probably better off under Negan’s protection, so why were you trying so hard to get away?

Once Negan stops hollering at you, the only sound in the room is the sharp crack of his hand continuing to crash against you along with your distraught screams and sobs as the pain becomes unbearable. One hand fists in your hair and yanks your head back painfully as his other keeps busy with it’s steady impact against your backside. Your throat is raw and your ass stings immensely, but Negan shows no signs of stopping. What he’s doing is beyond punishment at this point; his blows are brutal, violent and uncontrolled. It’s obvious that he’s no longer thinking clearly and is merely lashing out and taking his anger out on you.

When you hear the sound of Negan’s belt buckle before he whips it away from his hips, you cry even harder. The first lash of the leather against your already throbbing skin is incredibly painful and you unleash an ear-splitting scream. Negan hits you several more times until you’re sure you can feel thin streams of blood trailing along the backs of your thighs. The moisture collecting on your flesh only makes the contact of the belt hurt even more and you know you can’t take another hit.

Up until now, you’ve been able to handle any punishment Negan has doled out, but his current bout of merciless rage and savage treatment is frightening; convincing you that nothing is going to stop him and you have every reason to be afraid. The fact that you’ve managed to stir such a caustic reaction in the normally stone-cold and stoic man says a lot. He’s not the type to let his emotions — or lack thereof — influence his decisions, but there’s no denying that he’s certainly allowing his consuming anger to overrule his logic here and now.

Negan’s complete disregard for your current discomfort and fear upsets you, though you’re more worried about your physical pain than your mental pain at the moment. You’ve never been quite so terrorized or hurt in your life; with how fragile and scared you are, the mere sound of Negan’s lowering zipper finally shatters you.

“No, no, no. Please Negan, don’t. I can’t!” you beg, screeching at the top of your lungs, the words pouring out in a frantic and unstoppable tidal wave of sheer panic. “I can’t do this, Negan…please. I’m sorry, please don’t do this…don’t hurt me. I fucking can’t.”

Your words are barely intelligible through your blubbering sobs, but it’s enough to get through to Negan. Seemingly alarmed by your explosive and hysterical reaction to his behavior, Negan grips your hips and flips you over onto your back. You barely register how badly the cool sheets sting against your wounded flesh, you’re just relieved that Negan has finally stopped hitting you and has halted his advances.

Something akin to fear replaces the earlier irritation in Negan’s eyes as he’s unsure how to handle the blatant and gut-wrenching distress coloring your cries. He takes a step away from you, totally helpless as he merely watches you fall to pieces before his eyes. Even through your histrionics, you take note of Negan’s state and realize you’ve never seen the man this frazzled and confused before. He threads his fingers through his slick hair over and over as he tries to decide what to do and how to help you.

Negan had gone too far this time. In fact, you probably both had, and you’re both well aware of that fact. You’d grown pretty accustomed to Negan’s abrasive and rough behavior, but today you were in no fit state to handle him. Worn down, exhausted, and both mentally and physically bereft, his outrage and borderline abuse just proved to be too much for you. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wonder whether Negan has truly broken you this time.

You slam your eyes shut, refusing to look at Negan and not caring that your face is a mess of tears, mucus, and drool. You’re powerless to halt the broken wails that continue to rip from your throat until Negan grabs your arm roughly and pulls you into a seated position. Your whole body shakes as he takes your head between his large, warm palms, lifting your face and asking you to open your eyes and look at him. Initially, you refuse as you’re too worked up to lay eyes on the man, though he continues to prod you gently.

“Look at me,” Negan requests. Though his tone is unusually soft, it is in no way warm or soothing like you want and need it to be.

It’s then that you remember exactly who Negan is. Why you ever thought the man would want to or even be capable of comforting you is a mystery even to yourself. Still, you accept his sad attempt to help and pry your puffy eyes open to meet his gaze.

“Stop it. You’re fine,” he vows, his burning tawny eyes locked onto yours and refusing to look away until you calm down enough to breathe somewhat regularly. His thumbs skim across your cheeks to wipe away some of your tears before he speaks again. “I won’t do anything to you. I’m not gonna hurt you,” Negan promises with what you assume is the closest thing to kindness he’s capable of.

Much to your surprise, Negan takes a seat beside you and wraps an arm around your naked body. Ignoring your whine of protest, he pulls you into his arms and slides your sore bottom into his lap. You stiffen at first until he orders you to relax and you realize you’re too weak to fight against his strong embrace. As he presses your body into the damp t-shirt covering his torso, you promptly burst into tears and sob sorrowfully into his chest.

Your brain conveniently overlooks the fact that Negan is the main reason you’re in such a state, choosing instead to revel in the comforting sensation of human touch. You’re too fraught with pain and emotion to care that you’re taking solace in the arms of your tormentor.

“Why do you hate me?” you choke sadly, desperately seeking Negan’s approval and reassurance for reasons you can’t quite explain or understand. “Why won’t you just kill me?”

Negan inhales sharply at your broken and withered voice, taken aback by your pained words. “That’s enough. I don’t hate you,” he counters blandly, one hand resting against your back and the other cradling your head. “I just want you to fucking listen to me. I need you to understand me…understand how things work. It’s a whole new fuckin’ world and you have to adjust accordingly. You won’t survive if you don’t. When are you gonna get that through your head and stop fucking giving me a hard time? I don’t enjoy punishing you…I don’t want to hurt you.”

You can’t respond beyond a few whimpered cries as Negan holds you close to him while you let everything out. Using the bottom half of his shirt, he lifts it over his stomach and wipes the already damp fabric across your face to try cleaning you up a bit. Though you know he’s trying to comfort you, something about it is incredibly awkward and stiff, making it somewhat uncomfortable for the both of you. It’s clear he isn’t accustomed to soothing someone being flung headfirst into a severe panic attack and although he doesn’t seem particularly interested, he knows he fucked up with you and has to fix it somehow.

Sensing that you’ve relaxed a bit, Negan finally loosens his hold on you. He releases you from his arms and places you beside him on the bed. Standing up, he grabs a handful of clothes from the dresser and returns to the spot in front of you. You cringe when you see the small bloody splotches staining the front of his pants where you’d been seated and when he offers you a pair of panties, you refuse, knowing how uncomfortable they will be to wear. Negan helps you slip one of his long-sleeved white tees over your shaking body and rolls the over-sized sleeves to your wrists before leaving you to flip back the blankets on the bed.

He rounds the bed and approaches you once more, stepping towards you with his arms spread. You flinch at the movement as he advances on you and he pauses momentarily, making sure you’re okay before he scoops you up. Moving towards the top of the bed, he deposits you against the pile of fluffy pillows and waits for you to get comfortable. You curl up into a tight ball and pull the large shirt over your knees, allowing Negan to whip the downy comforter over your body.

“Are you cold?” he implores, noting the way your body still visibly vibrates as he brushes bits of hair away from your sticky face. You shake your head no, knowing that the residual quakes traveling through your limbs are due entirely to the traumatic episode you’d just suffered. “Get some rest. We’ll talk in the morning.”

Delivering that final command, Negan changes into clean clothes and turns to leave the room. It doesn’t escape you that he neglects to lock the door behind him, but you know you’re too exhausted to even bothering trying to get away. You assume Negan shares the thought seeing as he’s making no real effort to keep you in his room.

As his footsteps fade down the hall, you nearly jump up to open the door and call out after him, wanting him to stay by your side for some inexplicable reason. Even though he’d been the cause of all your recent suffering and your most recent bout of hysteria, he’s the only familiar thing you have to cling to right now and you need that stability. He’s all you know and all you have anymore, which is exactly how Negan wants it, you realize; he wants you to have to need him. That thought alone prompts you to tamp down your desire to reach out to Negan.

In his absence, your mind begins to swirl with a bevy of thoughts. You find yourself wondering whether Negan is truly sorry for pushing you to your breaking point. You ponder if he ever feels any remorse; not only for what he’s put you through, but for any of the sadistic things he’s done. You slip into a deep sleep before you can even begin to consider the complexity of that answer.

• • • • • • • • • •

You wake to the strong smell of coffee, your limbs heavy as you stir beneath the sheets of Negan’s bed. Much to your relief, you haven’t developed any sort of sickness after all the time you’d spent in the cold rain yesterday. Wincing as you roll over, your sore backside presses into the mattress and you moan softly at the pain. When your eyes open, your blurry vision adjusts to find Negan perched near your feet at the end of the bed. You decline to speak to him, barely managing to even look at him after the events of last night.

When Negan turns his head to look your way, you instantly shift your eyes away. A heavy tension swirls between you and you’re not sure how to proceed with what little is left of your relationship with the man — if you can even call it that.

Negan breaks the silence first, clearing his throat as he gets to his feet and offers you a steaming mug. You sit up delicately and take it from him, slowly sipping the strong, scalding coffee inside as he returns to his seat a few feet away from you. He regards you with a serious expression, something unknown darkening his eyes before he speaks.

“I understand why you want to leave. But you can’t go…I can’t let you,” he states assuredly. “You belong to me now and letting you go is a sign of weakness. I can’t have that. You know I can’t have that.”

Daring to speak up, you respond with a tiny, mousy voice. “Rick won’t think you’re weak if you let me go home. He’s more likely to cooperate because he’ll see you’re reasonable and that you have mercy,” you offer, submitting a subtle plea to be let free.

“That’s not how this works, sweetheart. Not anymore,” Negan debates, his voice taking on an irritated edge. “I gave you your chance. More than once, in fact. You took your shot, you made your move. Now you don’t get another one. I was willing to let you go if Rick cooperated and if you cooperated, but that deal just wasn’t good enough for you. You didn’t wanna work with me and now you’re staying here. You. Are. _Mine_.”

“I’m sorry for what I did,” you whisper with a wavering breath. “I know I was wrong. You were just trying to help us and I see that now.”

“Too late, darlin’,” Negan snaps. “You fucked up. You fucked everything up…for you and for your friends. I tried to be fair with you. Just remember that when you think you hate me for keeping you here. I don’t know why you want to go back there anyway. Do you think any of your friends are going to accept you with open arms? After you betrayed their trust to fuck me?”

You’re taken off guard by Negan’s harsh words and the disgusted way he scoffs at you following the statement. Ashamed and embarrassed, you find yourself growing angry with Negan’s mental games and constant manipulation.

“I’d like to take a shower,” you request with poorly hidden iciness, wanting to get away from the cruel man.

“No. Get dressed, we’re going to Alexandria,” he retorts snottily.

For the second time this morning, you’re shocked by what Negan says, unsure why he’s taking you back to Alexandria — especially after what happened and considering his assurance that you’d no longer be welcome there. Regardless, you obey Negan’s order and dress quickly, careful not to aggravate the swollen, bruised wounds covering the flesh of your backside.

Once inside the truck, Negan allows you to sit between himself and Simon, not bothering to put his hands on you like he normally would. After only a few minutes, a crackling message comes through the walkie-talkie sitting on the dashboard and though you can’t make out the words, the Savior on the other end is clearly upset.

Negan reaches for the radio and barks an impatient order for the man to repeat himself. This time the words come through much clearer and causes a jolt of fear to spark through your chest. The man relays his message again, informing Negan that they have a situation back at the Sanctuary. He tells Negan that he’d found Dwight in the basement and taken him to the infirmary and you feel the man tense beside you. Your throat tightens in horror when the man continues and his words prompt a ferocious growl from Negan.

‘ _The prisoner escaped_.’

Every muscle in your body locks as you recall your friend following you out of the Sanctuary. Given the situation you’d caused with your own getaway, it’s no wonder no one had noticed Daryl’s absence until now. You can only hope that Dwight doesn’t remember that you’d been the one to injure him, or at the very least, he doesn’t rat you out. Still, you know it won’t be long before Negan puts the pieces together and figures out that you’re involved in this whole mess.

“Simon, turn the fuck around!” Negan roars, smashing the radio to the floor between his feet as he runs a gloved hand over his face.

Unwilling to let him kill you or harm any more of your people, you make an impulsive decision. Remembering Negan’s promise that you’d be on your own if you ever dared to run from him again, you do exactly that. As the truck slows while Simon makes a U-turn, you angle your arm and smash your elbow into Negan’s face.

The moment he clutches a hand to his bleeding nose, you take advantage of his distracted state and launch your body over his lap. Turning the handle of the door, you toss yourself out of the truck while it’s still in motion. You waste no time climbing to your feet and taking off before Negan can register what’s happened. 

The injuries to your ass and the backs of your thighs throb and burn as you run, but you push through the pain until you’re a safe distance away. Only then do you turn back, relieved to see that the truck continues to speed down the road in the opposite direction, leaving a cloud of dust in it’s wake.

You breathe deeply as you brace your hands on your knees and watch the vehicle disappear in the distance, swiftly heading back to the Sanctuary. Without the rain or cold to slow you down this time, you trek down the gravel road, walking briskly towards freedom and a safe place you hope you can call home again.


	13. Trap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally back at Alexandria, things quickly go from bad to worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This is a re-post as I previously deleted this story and it also appears on AO3 as an orphaned work.)

**trap /trap/**  
_**noun**_  
**1\. [In a billiard game] A situation where you are expected to lose a game.**

Sweat pours from your brow as you trek weakly down the road in the blazing sun. You have no idea how long you’ve been walking, but it feels like days by now. You’ve neither seen nor heard any sign of Negan returning to find you and you’re sure he’s too occupied with his other escaped prisoner to give a damn about you. At this point, you’re worried that Negan’s loss of control over you and your people is going to send him into a downward spiral of rage and you can only hope you never cross paths with him again.

After at least a few more hours of walking, you’re graced with the distant sight of a familiar structure. A relieved huff passes over your chapped lips and with a sudden burst of renewed energy, you pace more quickly down the road.

Before long, you finally reach the perimeter of Alexandria and you immediately pound your fists against the steel fence. Unsure what kind of welcome you’ll be met with, you fidget restlessly at the gate. The inner fence slides open to reveal the face of a young man whose name you can’t recall. He regards you for a moment before seeming to recognize you.

“Shit. How did you get here?” he wonders.

“Ran away,” you supply. “Can I come in?”

“Uh, I’m gonna have to talk to Rick first,” he responds hesitantly as his tone grows cold and you wonder how much he knows about what you’ve done.

Nodding your understanding, you watch the man wander away and you begin to pace back and forth outside the gate. You hope Rick is kind enough to welcome you back, but given what Negan has told him, you don’t exactly have high expectations. Within a few minutes, you hear approaching footsteps and look up to see the man returning with Rick at his side.

“Are you alone?” Rick asks, stepping up to the fence that separates you.

“Yes.”

“How did you get away?” he implores succinctly.

“Negan was on his way here, but something happened and he turned back. I jumped out of the truck and he left me behind.” Rick seems skeptical of your answer so you continue, hoping to convince him. “He let me go because Daryl got out and he was more concerned about that. Did Daryl ever make it back here?”

Rick nods and shifts his eyes past you. “He got away, but he isn’t here.”

“Where is he?” you wonder.

Rick only shakes his head, declining to answer. You can’t exactly blame him; you wouldn’t trust someone with that information either — especially considering that you’d just spent the last few weeks living with the enemy. It isn’t beyond the realm of possibility for Negan to use you as a spy and you understand why Rick is hesitant to trust you again.

“I get it if you don’t want to let me come back,” you mutter. “I know you have no reason to trust me, but you have my word…I’m not here on Negan’s behalf. I just have nowhere else to go.”

With that, you sigh heavily and turn to walk away, accepting defeat. Before you take more than a few steps, you hear Rick’s voice ordering the gate to be opened, then calling after you. Turning back, you meet his eyes and smile slightly when he gestures for you to come inside.

“You can stay, but not everyone is gonna be on board with it. And you and I have a lot to talk about,” Rick informs you. “They aren’t gonna be comfortable with you being back after you were with Negan for so long…after what happened. I hate to do it, but you’re gonna have to stay in the cell.”

You don’t react to Rick’s words, knowing that this is a better option than being stranded outside on your own. If the people of Alexandria want you locked in a cell so you can’t betray them any further, that’s fine by you. It’s your best chance at safety and survival. Joining Rick, you walk at his side as he leads you into the community and towards the house that holds the cell.

“So Dwight is on our side now?” you ask casually, wondering whether the man is even still alive following Negan’s return to the Sanctuary.

“He knows Negan is dangerous,” is all Rick offers, not continuing the conversation beyond that.

Accepting Rick’s reluctance to give you any information about their plans or alliances, you walk silently beside him. You follow him through what you assume is his home and down into the basement. Entering the cell he guides you to, you turn to watch Rick locking the door behind you.

“I’m sorry,” he states with a sad look in his eyes. “This is just until things calm down and we know that we can trust you. Once Negan is taken care of, we’ll find you somewhere to stay. I’ll bring you some clothes and food for now.”

Settling onto the uncomfortable cot in the corner, you stare up at the gray ceiling. You’re glad to finally be away from Negan and alone without having to worry about someone coming for you; it’s a relief to finally feel safe for once. The hollow sound of heavy boots traversing the stairs draws you from your thoughts and you sit up to find Rick returning with the food and clothing he’d promised. He passes the items through the bars to you and you offer your thanks as he takes a seat on a stool outside the cell.

“Guess this is the part where we have that talk,” you intone dryly, prompting a slight smirk from the bearded man outside the metal bars surrounding you.

“What did Negan do with Daryl? He won’t talk to anyone about it, all he wants to do is go back and kill Negan,” Rick states.

You swallow your mouthful of food, shifting nervously at Rick’s words. “He was using Daryl to punish me. Every time I did something wrong, he would hurt him and make me watch,” you admit, your eyes welling up with tears as you recall the horrible things you’d seen. “He tortured him because I tried to go behind his back and help you kill him. It’s my fault…I’m the reason Daryl got hurt.”

Rick shakes his head, assuring you that you shouldn’t blame yourself for what happened. “Negan is evil, he wants to use us against each other. You’re both safe now and that’s what matters.”

“Until Negan comes looking for us,” you debate.

“We can handle it,” Rick retorts confidently. “We’ll protect you, Negan won’t get to either one of you. If we all work together, we can fight him. I just need to make sure Daryl doesn’t go rogue and get himself killed.”

Though you don’t fully believe Rick’s words, his adamant tone does make you feel a little better. Negan’s men far outnumber your own, but you know Alexandria has the capability of standing up to him and not letting him take over.

You nod in agreement, chewing slowly around the tasteless food. “Daryl knows better. As angry as he is, he isn’t stupid enough to try taking Negan on by himself. He knows we all need to do it together, when the time is right.”

Rick shifts anxiously, looking down at the floor as an odd silence spreads between you. When he glances up and clears his throat, you already know what’s coming.

“You know I have to ask…” he murmurs awkwardly.

“I know,” you interrupt, already feeling your cheeks tingling with shame. “It’s true. I fucked the enemy. And if I knew what would happen, I never would have done it. I would take all of it back if I could.”

“Did he force you?” Rick wonders, his voice pained in expectation for your answer.

“No,” you respond immediately, not understanding your desire to so quickly defend Negan’s honor. “Not really, anyway…I mean, I never said no.”

Rick pauses for a moment and you can tell he doesn’t want to ask his next question, but he wants answers. “How did it even happen?”

“The first time was the day he came here,” you admit, scratching at your neck as you grow uncomfortable with the direction of your conversation. “I came out of my house after everyone left…or I thought they had, anyway. I was out by the pool table and he found me. I tried to kill him and…I don’t know…things just got really out of hand and we ended up having sex. Except it didn’t feel like sex. I just felt used and degraded.”

“I’m sorry,” Rick offers, genuinely sounding sincere. “You don’t have to tell me anything else.”

You’re relieved upon hearing Rick’s words. If he hadn’t stopped you, you’re sure you would open up about every detail of your involvement with Negan and you’d dump every emotion he made you feel onto Rick. Seeing as your second meeting with Negan had led to the death of one of your own — and at your hand, no less — it’s probably for the best that Rick has cut you off.

With a final offer for anything else you might need, Rick stands up and leaves you in the cell with nothing to keep you company aside from your muddled thoughts and reeling brain. You lay back, resuming your studious observation of the plain ceiling until you eventually drift into sleep.

• • • • • • • • • •

After less than a week, Rick lets you out of the cell to spend some time outside. You savor the fresh air and warm sunshine, allowing yourself to revel in your time outdoors. Rick follows you down the porch stairs, remaining beside you for a moment before his low voice gets your attention.

“I’ve talked to everyone and they’re okay with you rejoining the community. You don’t have to stay in the cell anymore,” he tells you with a smile.

You wrap Rick in a tight hug, thanking him for his generosity before he lets you know he has some things to tend to. Now alone, you stroll down the paved street of the community, observing the people milling about throughout the community. You’re headed towards one of the empty houses near the outer perimeter when a hand reaches around and covers your mouth.

At first you fight back, wriggling within the hold of your attacker, but the feeling of cold steel pressed against your jugular stops your movements. The figure behind you drags you towards the building nearest to you, hiding you from the rest of the community. You have no idea who the person is until the familiar voice reaches your ears.

“What the fuck are you doing back here?” Dwight rasps from over your shoulder, though he makes no effort to remove the hand covering your mouth. “You shouldn’t be here with these people.”

With that, Dwight shoves you roughly, pushing you to the ground. Your hands and knees crash to the gravel and you grunt in pain as you shift to look up at the scrawny blonde man above you. You gasp loudly upon seeing Dwight’s face, noticing the fresh burns covering his face.

“Yeah, this is because of you,” he hisses, waving his knife in the general vicinity of his marred face. “Negan made sure I took the fall for letting you get away…for breaking Daryl out. I fucking tried to help you, but you wanted to be selfish and only give a shit about yourself. If you didn’t attack me, we all would have gotten out safely.”

“Dwight, I…I'm–,” you stutter, trying to defend yourself.

“Shut the hell up!” he yells, lunging towards you and wrenching your body back into a standing position, holding the neckline of your shirt as he presses his face close to yours. “This is all your fault! You fucked up the plan, you got your own people into trouble. Rick never should have let you come back here. You don’t even deserve to live. All you do is get everyone hurt.”

The more Dwight berates you for your actions and decisions, the more responsible you feel. Perhaps he’s right; maybe you don’t deserve Rick’s help after everything you’ve done. Before you have a chance to respond, a searing pain in your gut chases every other thought from your mind.

Glancing down, you’re shocked to see the blade of Dwight’s knife buried deep in your stomach. You inhale sharply, watching your blood soaking through your t-shirt and spreading across the thin fabric. You have no chance of stopping Dwight as he yanks the knife sideways, creating a deep gash from your bellybutton towards your left hip. You scream in agony as he slices you open and pulls the knife from your flesh.

Dwight watches as you drop to your knees, desperately clutching the oozing laceration. He leaves then, walking away while blood pours over your hands and through your fingers. Knowing that you’re going to die here if you don’t get help, you stand on shaky legs and stumble towards the center of the community. Wetness soaks into your pants, staining the denim a dark red as you stumble around, hoping someone spots you. Much to your relief, you fall down in front of a house just as Rick steps foot outside the door.

“Shit! What the hell happened?” he yells, jogging steadily in your direction.

You’re unable to formulate a response, you merely shake your head as your hands keep pressure on your gushing wound. Rick scoops you into his arms and moves as fast as he can towards the front gate, begging for you to hang on. Looking down, you can see your blood beginning to stain Rick’s shirt as well.

He calls out to one of the guards, asking him to come along with you as he shoves you into the backseat of a car then climbs behind the wheel. The other man slides in beside you, immediately whipping the dirty bandanna off of his skull and pressing it to your wound as Rick directs the speeding car through the gates of Alexandria.

“Where are we going?” you slur, struggling to keep your eyes open as your loss of blood starts to take it’s toll.

“Hilltop,” Rick supplies, driving with frightening speed. “We have a good doctor there, he can help you.”

“Hope Hilltop is close,” you barely force out as your head lolls and the man next to you cradles your skull in his wide palm.

A shrill ringing rattles your ears and you can feel all color draining from your clammy face. Everything seems to move in a slow blur as darkness seeps into the edges of your vision and your breathing becomes shallow. You’ve already lost too much blood and if you don’t get help immediately, you fear you aren’t going to make it.

You can hardly make out the words of the man hovering over you, demanding that you stay awake. Much as you try, your weakened and wounded body has other plans. Before long, you slip into unconsciousness, your body falling limp as your flowing blood soaks the upholstered seat beneath you.


	14. Sweat A Match

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You receive some serious news and Alexandria receives a visit from one very unhappy man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This is a re-post as I previously deleted this story and it also appears on AO3 as an orphaned work.)

**sweat a match /swet ā maCH/**  
_**verb**_  
**1\. To observe a match, sometimes nervously if one is at risk of losing a lot.**

The intense, throbbing pain across your abdomen is the first thing you register when your eyes finally slip open. You groan in discomfort as you reach for the aching spot and you realize there’s a tube sprouting from the vein in the back of your hand. Observing the I.V. line, you struggle to remember where you are and what has happened to you.

You feel groggy and disoriented as you sit up, taking note of the fact that you’re dressed in a thin, crinkly hospital gown. The material hangs loosely from one shoulder, baring your upper arm in the cool air of the room.

You adjust the gown around your body as you slide to the edge of the bed and drop your feet to the ground. The deep breath you take tugs at the tender wound just above your pelvis and you wince slightly as you stand up. You lift the hem of the gown, exposing the large bandage taped across your abdomen.

Unable to see the extent of your wound, you replace the gown and take a step away from the bed, being careful not to strain the tube still embedded in your vein. Spotting your bloody clothes folded on the counter across the small room, you move sluggishly towards them. Just as you unfold the blood-stained garments, a soft voice startles you.

“You shouldn’t even be up yet…you need to take it easy,” the voice informs you with a stern tone.

Whirling around, you spot a man in wire-framed glasses standing in the doorway. He adjusts the spectacles at the tip of his nose while striding into the room and helping you back into the bed. You grunt in discomfort as the movement aggravates your fresh wound before leaning back against the pillow.

“Can you take this thing outta me?” you request softly, lifting your hand to gesture to your I.V.

“We’d better leave it for a bit longer,” the doctor argues. “You’re dehydrated and you need as much fluids as you can get after what you went through. Besides, we have some things to discuss. But I’ll remove it after that.”

Settling into the bed, you accept his gentle orders and turn your full attention to him, waiting for him to start talking. You watch the doctor take a seat on the rolling stool near the end of your bed and you notice he’s refusing to meet your eyes. He scratches anxiously at his face and you know something is up. Sitting up straighter, you wrap your arms around your body, fighting the tightening of your throat as your nerves start to take over.

“What’s going on?” you snap, unable to soften the agitated tone of your voice.

His gaze connects with yours then and he clears his throat before speaking lowly. “I removed your appendix before sewing you up. Due to the damage caused by your wound, I determined your healing process would go much smoother without risking an infection in your appendix,” he states blandly. “I performed an ultrasound of your abdomen to make sure there was no further damage to any surrounding organs. Thankfully, I found nothing too extensive, but there was considerable damage to your right ovary and a portion of your uterus. I also discovered you were pregnant.”

Your eyes widen and your mouth pops open as your brain registers the doctor’s casually spoken words. A tense silence follows the revelation and you can feel your face blanching. _Pregnant_ , you lament, _fucking pregnant_. Shutting your gaping mouth, you swallow thickly before addressing the doctor.

“How far along am I?” you croak.

“About 6-8 weeks, I’d estimate,” he informs you, before pausing for an uncomfortable amount of time. “Unfortunately, the chances of your pregnancy surviving were slim to none. I had to remove the fetus to prevent any further complications.”

Though you nod in understanding, your whole body feels numb. Considering the doctor’s words for a moment, you think back on the timeline of the last few weeks and realize you’d likely gotten pregnant the day Negan had come to Alexandria and made you kill Rosita. The reminder of that day makes you feel worse than the fact that you’ve lost a pregnancy you weren’t even aware of.

Somehow you feel nothing in regard to the loss of life, convincing yourself that it had merely been a clump of cells; not far enough along to qualify as a child. You and the doctor sit in silence as your brain reels and you wonder when you’d become so cold-hearted and incapable of feeling anything. You know you should be upset or sad or something, but no matter how hard you try, you feel nothing.

“I’ll give you a minute,” the doctor informs you lowly as he stands to leave the room.

“I’d like to see Rick,” you request without emotion.

As you wait for Rick’s arrival, you try to decide whether or not you’re going to tell him about what’s happened. There’s really no reason for it, it’s not as if the news is going to affect him in any way, but something in you wants him to know; some cruel part of you wants him to know that this is just another thing you had to endure because he and his people had let Negan take you. In reality, you know it isn’t Rick’s fault in any way, but you feel better placing the blame on anyone other than yourself.

Rick knocks lightly at the open doorway, eyeing you cautiously as he strides slowly into the room. You can tell from the pitying look in his eyes that he already knows. For whatever reason, you’re disappointed that you don’t have the satisfaction of dropping this bomb on Rick yourself. He paces to your bedside, gently pulling you into a hug as he cradles your head against his chest.

He holds you for a moment before speaking. “Who did this? What happened?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t see them, they snuck up behind me,” you lie, not wanting to place the blame on Dwight and cause any more trouble.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers brokenly.

The sadness and sympathy coloring Rick’s words makes your skin crawl. Why is he more upset than you are? What’s wrong with you? Your mind contrives excuse after excuse, trying to explain away your complete disconnection from your emotions. You didn’t know you were pregnant, so it’s not as if you had any attachment to a baby you never knew existed. It wasn’t a pregnancy borne of love or compassion, it was merely an accident with a man who used you for his own benefit. Plus, what kind of person would you be to bring a kid into this shitty world anyway?

None of the things you use to justify your lack of compassion make you feel any better. Your confusion with your own conscience just makes you angry. Why aren’t you sad, or even bitter? What kind of monster are you? Embracing the only thing you can feel right now, you take advantage of your anger and you lash out, wanting to hurt Rick and make him feel what you know you should be feeling. You want him to feel the emptiness of a loss because you can’t.

“This is karma,” you murmur with a humorless laugh, causing Rick to pull away and look down at you. “I killed Rosita. I killed her and then I lost my unborn baby.”

Rick removes his arm from around your shoulder, shying away as if you’ve burned him. His brow is furrowed in confusion and his lips part in shock. He stutters repeatedly, struggling to come up with any words in response to your confession.

“Yeah. I’m responsible for her getting shot,” you admit coldly, though your voice breaks and tears fill your eyes. “I put a bullet between her eyes while Negan was fucking me.”

You feel guilty and disgusting as Rick’s face contorts, but you suppose this is better than feeling nothing at all. With a disappointed and horrified shake of his head, Rick backs away and storms out of the room.

You sit up slowly in bed, cringing as you clumsily yank the I.V. from your vein and toss the needle away. Moving carefully across the room, you gingerly pull your filthy clothes back over your body, making sure not to fasten your jeans so they don’t dig into your wound. You sneak out into the hallway, checking both ways before your boots squeak quietly down the hallway towards the door.

Making your way outside, you glance around the unfamiliar community, trying to determine the way out. Spotting a path leading towards the perimeter, you walk as fast as you comfortably can, hoping you can get through before Rick comes to find you. Just before you reach the gate, a familiar and raspy noise reaches your ears.

“Where you goin’?” Daryl calls, pacing towards you.

Observing his face, you can see most of his wounds have healed. You’re glad to see that Daryl had gotten away from Negan and found a safe place to live. Too bad you hadn’t received the same fate. Turning to face Daryl, you offer a friendly smile in his direction as you wait for him to approach before you respond.

“I’m leaving,” you admit. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“What are you talkin’ about?” he questions. “Y'ain’t goin’ back to Negan, are you?”

“No,” you defend. “I’ll be dead if he ever even sees me again. I just…I don’t belong here. I don’t deserve Rick’s help.”

Daryl steps closer to you, laying a comforting hand on your shoulder and somehow making you feel even guiltier with the gesture. “You don’t have to leave. We all know you did what you had to. You’re home now and everyone has forgiven you.”

“Yeah, I think the gash in my side says otherwise,” you scoff bitterly. “We’re all better off if I go, believe me.”

Just then, Rick steps out of the building you’d just left and you sigh softly, knowing this is about to fall apart. He spots you and Daryl and quickly makes his way over. You’re unsure what he plans to do with you, but you’re going to make it easy for him and just leave.

“What’s going on?” Rick wonders.

“She’s leavin’,” Daryl supplies.

Rick eyes you suspiciously before shaking his head. “You can’t go out there on your own…not like this,” he argues, gesturing to your wounded side. “You’ll stay put until you’re healed.”

You stare dumbly at Rick, not understanding his generosity. So accustomed to the way Negan would manipulate you, you’re sure this is some kind of game. Rick is just being nice so he can catch you off guard once he finally strikes. You have to talk your way out of Rick’s deal and get out of here.

“I can’t stay,” you debate. “Negan will undoubtedly come looking for me. Trust me. He’ll never let me get away. If he ends up here, he’ll find Daryl too, and I can’t let that happen. I can’t be the reason he gets hurt again.”

“Then you’ll stay at Alexandria until you can go out on your own,” Rick offers.

“Why are you doing this for me?” you hiss, your guilt translating to anger. “After everything I did. After everything you know.”

“Because I know Negan gave you no choice,” Rick whispers sadly. “Everything you did…he made you do it. If you didn’t, he would’ve killed you.”

“And he’ll kill you if he finds out you helped me!” you yell. “He’ll come back and he’ll kill all of us. You don’t know what he’s like, Rick. You don’t stand up to Negan and get away with it. He always wins.”

Rick still refuses to give in, continuing to insist that you at least return to Alexandria with him. You’re suspicious that he’s going to kill you, but deep down you find that you still trust your old leader and you eventually relent.

“I’ll come back under one condition,” you contend. “The second I’m back on my feet, you let me go. I need to get away before Negan comes looking for me because if he knows I’m there, it won’t end well for anyone.”

Rick agrees to your request, promising that he’ll give you whatever supplies you need to survive on your own. The fact that Rick is still willing to help you even after you’ve killed one of his people is baffling to you, but you know he’s right; you need to heal before you head out if you hope to have any chance of surviving.

Against your better judgement, you allow Rick to escort you back to Alexandria. You can only hope that no one else finds out about what you did to Rosita. If you thought the people of Alexandria were unwelcoming before, it’s nothing compared to how they’ll feel if they find out you’d killed one of their own.

• • • • • • • • • •

Sooner than any of you had expected or were prepared for, Negan makes his appearance at Alexandria. You only realize he’s arrived when a pair of hasty steps clomp down the stairs into the basement where you’ve been staying. You’re surprised when it’s not Rick who rounds the corner, but rather Michonne. Sitting up on the cot, you regard her with confusion.

“What’s going on?” you ask.

She steps towards the open door of your cell, glancing inside at you. “Negan is here,” she states distractedly as she turns to take a seat just outside the cell. “I’m making sure he doesn’t get to you.”

You stand then, moving to the open doorway to look down at the woman as she fiddles with the katana laying across her thighs. “Thank you,” you murmur. “For looking out for me.”

“Don’t thank me…thank Rick,” she bites back nastily. “He wants you safe. If it were up to me, I’d let Negan have you.”

Stunned by Michonne’s angry words, you back away and drop down onto your cot with a huff. Assuming Rick has told her about what you did, you can’t even blame her; she’s absolutely entitled not to want you around after all you’ve done. You suppose you’re just lucky that Rick has a heart and thinks you deserve to be protected and given another chance. It’s then you realize that you should probably just give yourself up and save these people from suffering through Negan’s wrath as he tries to find you.

With that thought in mind, you stand again and move quickly out of the cell. Michonne calls out to you, though you ignore the stern sound of her voice. As you reach the bottom stair, you feel her hand wrap around your elbow and yank you back.

“Where are you going?” she scolds impatiently.

“To find Negan,” you tell her. “He’s here for me, we both know that. I need to turn myself over or he’s gonna start killing people.”

“No,” Michonne counters. “Rick was clear that I need to keep you safe here. I’m not letting you leave.”

You try to wrench your arm from Michonne’s grip, but she holds fast and refuses to let you go. “I’m doing this to save you all! Rick thinks he can help me, but all he’s doing by keeping me here is endangering all of his people.”

Before Michonne has a chance to talk you down, the door at the top of the stairs whips open. You both look up in fear, expecting to find a pair of long legs and a leather jacket-wearing man looming in the doorway. Much to your relief, the silhouette upstairs is only Rick. Spotting you at the bottom of the stairs being held still by Michonne, he quickly makes his way down to you and guides you both into the center of the basement.

“He’s gone,” Rick assures you, noticing the worried expressions on your faces. “I don’t know what we’re going to do.”

“What did he say? What does he want?” you ask, already knowing the answer.

Ricks sighs as he looks down at you. “He’s looking for you. He knows you’re here, but I didn’t confirm it,” Rick states. “He came alone. Said he wanted to negotiate a deal in the most civil way.”

“Civil,” you laugh humorlessly, thinking that it probably isn’t even a word in Negan’s vocabulary. “He probably just wants us to think he isn’t going to retaliate. What deal does he want to make?”

“He said if we turn you over, he won’t punish us for hiding you,” Rick admits. “He knows you’re here…and we knew he would, but I don’t believe him. If we turn you over, he’s just going to kill our people for the hell of it. No one gets away with anything where Negan is concerned.”

“Then she needs to leave,” Michonne barks.

Rick turns his attention to Michonne, ready to defend you, but you interrupt. “No, she’s right,” you agree. “I told you already, Rick…I can’t be here. Negan won’t stop until he gets me and the only way you guys don’t get hurt is if I’m not here.”

“We can keep you safe for now. We can make a better deal with Negan,” Rick tries to offer. “We agree to cooperate as long as he leaves you alone.”

“That’s not how this works,” you say, sounding very much like Negan. “You guys don’t owe me anything. I can’t put you in this position. I don’t even deserve your help. It’s okay, really…just let me stay one more night and I’ll be gone by tomorrow afternoon. You tell Negan that I up and left. Let him search the houses. Let him know you aren’t hiding me. It’s the only way you get out of this in one piece.”

Though Rick seems apprehensive, Michonne is fully on board with you leaving. She turns to Rick, nodding in encouragement and explaining in a low voice that he needs to let you go. It’s been long enough that you’ve had time to heal an adequate amount and your strength is at a level that you’ll be able to survive on your own. You state as much to Rick, assuring him that you’re okay with this plan and he should be too. As much as you know he doesn’t want to, Rick ultimately agrees, offering to provide any supplies you might need.

Michonne exits the basement to gather some things for you then, leaving you and Rick to talk a bit longer. You step towards the cell, settling with your back against the bars and gesturing for Rick to do the same. He obeys as he makes one last offer for you to stay, though you both know you can’t and won’t accept.

You begin discussing where you’ll go and how you plan to find somewhere new to stay, smiling to yourself when Rick informs you that Alexandria’s doors will always be open. You’re both aware that he’s just about the only person who is okay with you being here and it’s not likely you’ll ever be coming back. Michonne returns several minutes later, dropping a worn bag near your feet that you assume is filled with gear.

“Thanks,” you mutter shyly, glancing up at her. “I know you hate me and you have every right. But I appreciate your help.”

With only a small nod of acknowledgement, Michonne turns and leaves. Gathering the bag into your arms, you stand up and make your way back into the cell. You settle the bag at the end of your bed before taking a seat.

“You should get back to your people,” you call to Rick, watching as he turns to look at you over his shoulder. “I’ll probably be gone before you wake up in the morning. Can you tell Daryl I said goodbye?”

Smiling slightly, Rick promises to let Daryl know. He climbs to his feet, walking towards you and holding his hand out to you. You take his large hand in yours, feeling the calluses of his palm as you share a handshake.

“Good luck, kid,” he rasps, respect shining in his eyes.

You manage to maintain a tiny, sad smile until Rick turns his back on you and your fake expression quickly falls. He makes his way up the stairs and you lay back, trying to get some sleep before you have to leave. It’s then that you finally feel some semblance of sadness. You had every chance at a life here, if only you hadn’t allowed yourself to get involved with Negan. If only you hadn’t tried to best Negan, you wouldn’t have ever been in this situation.

Regardless, you know this needs to be done. You don’t want to go, but you staying here is just going to get more people killed. You seem to have a knack for screwing things up and you hope you’ll have a better chance at a decent life if you just try to survive on your own. At least that way you don’t run the risk of putting anyone else in harm’s way.


	15. Blocker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The longer you stay hidden, the more Negan lashes out at Rick and his people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This is a re-post as I previously deleted this story and it also appears on AO3 as an orphaned work.)

**block·er /bläkər/**  
_**noun**_  
**1\. An object that blocks the desired path of the cue ball.**

Your eyes flick open and you immediately wrench your body upright in bed. Without any windows to indicate whether the sun is up, you rise to your feet and decide no matter what time it is, you should be heading out. Grabbing the bag from the floor, you toss it over your shoulder and slip on your boots, lacing them up before heading for the stairs.

Tiptoeing up the stairs, you creak the basement door open and step out into the upper floor of Rick’s house. You’re surprised to see sunshine illuminating the entire upstairs and you wonder exactly what time it is. Shutting the door behind you, you listen carefully for any signs of movement through the house. You don’t hear anything so you stride towards the front door, letting yourself out.

Based on the gentle heat of the sun’s rays, you assume it’s still pretty early in the day. The sooner you leave, the better; there’s no point in waiting around and giving Negan the chance to return and catch you on your way out.

Paying little mind to your surroundings, you trudge purposefully through Alexandria. It isn’t until you’re mere feet away from the front gate that you notice a strange sound. It takes you a moment, but as you pay particular attention to the noise, you realize it’s very familiar. Just outside the gate is the rumbling sound of at least a few engines. Unless the people of Alexandria have recently acquired a fleet of trucks, you know the sound you’re hearing means Negan is lurking just outside the gates.

Before you have the chance to turn and run, the warmth of a hand encircles your wrist. You’re nearly pulled right off your feet as the hand yanks you in the opposite directing, hauling you away from the front gate. The force of the jerking motion pulls painfully against your healing stitches and you yelp loudly.

You finally get your feet back under you and look up to find Rick wordlessly dragging you away, pressing a finger to his lips in a silent demand for you to keep quiet. He leads you to one of the empty houses, carting you down a hallway and shoving you into a messy closet near the back of the house.

“I have to let him in,” Rick pants, forcing you behind the dangling jackets and piles of rubbish within the small space. “Stay in here. Do not make a sound. Do not come out.”

With that, Rick slams the door in your face and takes off, jogging back outside the abandoned house. The only thing you can hear is your own heavy breathing, rattling around the claustrophobic closet and echoing in your ears. As the adrenaline wears off, you become increasingly aware of the pain shooting through your side. Shifting within the mess of coats surrounding you, you gently lift your t-shirt, taking note of the blood-soaked bandage you find beneath.

“Shit,” you mutter to yourself.

You know you need to do something about this, but you can’t leave this closet while Negan is around. Pressing the bandage against your skin with as much pressure as you can stand, you resign yourself to waiting this out. You try your best to ignore the way the drops of sweat dampening your skin sting your re-opened wound, trying to slow your heavy breathing as well so as not to irritate the cut any more.

Moving slowly, you remove your backpack and drop down to settle into the furthest corner of the deep closet. You pull an empty box in front of your feet, hoping to disguise yourself in the event that Negan does in fact decide to search any of the houses.

In the distance, you can hear the sound of his trucks entering the community and your body tenses. Though they’re far away, you can tell that he’s brought backup this time. You hope his decision to bring company doesn’t mean that he’s changed his mind about the deal he had proposed to Rick. You lean your head forward, pressing your forehead to your knees and silently praying that Negan won’t find you and will be gone soon.

After several incredibly long minutes, the sound of voices begins filtering through the slats of the closet door. You lift your head, your ears perking up at the faint tones. Though you can’t make out the exact words, you are sure the people speaking are men. As the voices grow closer and clearer, you recognize them and a spear of panic pierces through your chest.

Negan is somewhere outside, close enough that you can clearly hear his voice and both dread and anxiety impede your ability to breathe. Having convinced yourself you would never cross paths with the man again, you weren’t prepared to hear his deep, velvety voice again. The fact that he’s just outside and in such close proximity to you paralyzes you with fear.

You can’t let him find you. Rick can’t let him find you. Surely you’ll meet your end if he does. You briefly consider jumping out of the closet and making a run for it, but since you’re unsure of where exactly Negan or his men are, you don’t know which route of escape is going to get you away from him.

Forcing yourself to tamp down your impulsive desires, you try to block out the sound of Negan’s words. Unfortunately, his voice grows louder and more angry as he ventures closer to the house you’re in. Though you still cannot make out what he’s saying, it’s obvious that he’s getting more impatient and enraged. Every few seconds he pauses and you can barely hear Rick’s voice responding to whatever Negan is saying.

After another couple of minutes, you’re relieved to hear the voices fading once more. You let out a heavy breath that stirs a cloud of dust around you. Though you assume it’s safe to emerge from your hiding spot, you won’t risk it; you’re going to wait until someone comes to find you, you’re going to wait until you know Negan is gone.

It takes much longer than you expect, but eventually you hear footsteps entering the house and heading your way. Glancing through the small space between the closet doors, you’re glad to see it’s Rick striding down the hallway. He wrenches the doors open and you don’t miss the exhausted and defeated look upon his face. Offering a hand to you, Rick helps you to your feet and instantly notices the small spot of blood staining your shirt as you replace your bag on your back.

“You should get that cleaned up and change the dressing,” he instructs. “You don’t want it to get infected.”

Nodding in agreement, you follow Rick out of the house. You don’t speak, unsure how to broach the subject in regards to Negan’s visit. Based on Rick’s general aura when he came to find you, you’re not sure you want to know what happened; it doesn’t seem like it’s going to be good news.

When you reach Rick’s house, he directs you down to the basement and lets you know he’ll bring you some medical supplies. You head downstairs and drop both your bag and your body onto the small cot. Rick returns before long, carrying a bottle of peroxide and a bundle of gauze. He offers to clean your wound for you, asking you to lift your shirt and remove the dirty bandage as he soaks a bit of gauze in peroxide.

You wince as Rick presses the wet cloth to your tender flesh and the liquid fizzes and burns. He applies pressure for a long moment before sweeping up the dried blood surrounding the wound. When Rick pulls away, he offers you a piece of dry gauze and some medical tape, allowing you to redress your wound. You use your teeth to tear several lengths of tape from the roll before securing the gauze over your stitches. Handing the supplies back to Rick, you settle more comfortably on your bed and decide to break the ice.

“What happened with Negan?” you wonder.

Rick instantly sighs heavily and you already know it isn’t going to be good. Whatever happened out there, Rick’s distressed response doesn’t really bode well. He takes a seat at the end of the bed and hangs his head for a moment before speaking.

“He’s not happy,” Rick laments, running a hand over his bearded face. “He’s convinced you’re here, no matter how much I try to tell him otherwise. He knows this is the only place you could’ve gotten to on foot…the only place that you’d go to for shelter.”

“What about the deal he wanted to make? Does he still want that?” you ask.

“Not exactly,” Rick says, shaking his head. “Deal’s off the table. He’s punishing us until we give you to him. The Saviors took almost all of our food. Negan said every time he has to come back to ask me where you are, he’s going to kill someone.”

You huff loudly, shutting your eyes as you drop your head into your hands. “Jesus, Rick. I’m sorry. I never should have come back here.”

“You were alone and scared, you came to the only safe place you knew of,” Rick retorts. “We can figure something out. You can still leave if you want to. I’m not sure how Negan will feel if I let you get away, but I won’t hold you prisoner.”

Scratching your head in thought, you try to consider any other options. You don’t have very many and no matter what you do, someone is going to get hurt; you have no way to get everyone out unscathed. Maybe you should just turn yourself over to Negan. It’s better if you die rather than allowing Rick’s people to become collateral damage in the way of Negan’s war path towards vengeance.

“I have to fix this,” you mutter, prompting Rick to turn towards you. “I would rather something happen to me than all of you. I caused all of this, I need to be the one to fix it.”

“How? You can’t go back to him, he’ll kill you,” Rick assures you. “Let me bring you back to Hilltop. Next time Negan shows up, I’ll let him search around. He won’t find you here and then he has no reason to punish us.”

You stare at Rick for a long moment, considering his plan. You’re unsure if it will work, but it’s not as if you have any better ideas. It’s unlikely Negan is going to be satisfied and give up his search for you, but you suppose it can’t hurt to try. If you aren’t actually here, Negan will have no choice but to look for you elsewhere and maybe he’ll leave Rick and his people alone.

“Well, your people certainly don’t want me here, so I guess Hilltop is my best option,” you cede. “If this doesn’t work how you want it to, I need your word that you’ll let me fix this. You have to let me go back so Negan stops.”

“You have my word,” Rick promises begrudgingly. “So you’ll let me take you to Hilltop tomorrow?”

You can’t help smirking at the man’s persistence and tenacity. Nodding slightly, you agree to partake in Rick’s plan. You don’t have high hopes, but this might be your only chance.

“Yeah. Tomorrow,” you concur.


	16. Give The X

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Negan eventually discovers you, finally confirming his belief that Alexandria has been hiding you from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This is a re-post as I previously deleted this story and it also appears on AO3 as an orphaned work.)

**give the x /ɡiv T͟Hə eks/**  
_**verb**_  
**1\. To give your opponent a specific ball that, if pocketed, allows them to win the game.**

Tomorrow comes and so does Negan. After a restless night of tossing and turning, you’re in a deep, deep sleep; napping well into the afternoon when Negan makes his grand entrance. Though at the time you have no idea that Negan is here, you’re awoken by a loud bang. You’re unsure what the noise is that rouses you until you hear the sound of a lock clicking into place and you know someone has just locked the door at the top of the stairs.

Confused as to why someone would be locking you in the basement, you whip the thin blanket off your body and jog barefoot towards the stairwell. Pausing for a moment at the bottom, you don’t hear any movement upstairs and slowly make your way up the creaky wooden steps. You reach for the knob and as expected, it doesn’t turn beneath your hand. No matter how much you jostle and rattle it, the knob won’t budge.

Just as you’re about to begin slamming your body against the locked door, you hear the sound of muffled voices just beyond the door. You determine that it’s Rick and Michonne, though you can’t hear clearly enough to know what they’re discussing. Whatever it is, they both sound distressed and you wonder what’s happening. You crouch down, trying to hear better through the small bit of space under the basement door. Their voices halt, though a loud and repetitive banging echoes through the house.

Listening closely, you hear one set of footsteps shuffling up to the second floor of the house while the other appears to be moving towards the front of the house. You gasp aloud when the sound of Negan’s booming voice seeps in from outside the house.

“Come on out, Ricky!” he hollers. “You and I have some talkin’ to do!”

Placing a palm over your mouth, you nearly burst into tears. _This cannot be happening_ , your brain screams. To your surprise, you hear the front door open and Negan greets Rick loudly. Though he sounds friendly, there’s definitely an edge to his words that sets goosebumps blossoming across your skin. Suddenly it makes sense why this door is locked. Too afraid to remain where you are, you skitter as quietly as you can back down the stairs, wishing there was some other way for you to escape this basement.

Even back downstairs, you can pretty clearly hear Rick and Negan’s conversation and it’s quite obviously that Negan is very displeased with Rick.

“I tried to work with ya, Rick…but my patience is wearing real thin,” Negan warns. “No matter how many fuckin’ ways I try to make deals and reason with you people, you still think this is some kind of negotiation.”

“Negan, listen,” Rick counters softly. “I would help you if I could. But I can’t. She ain’t here. You can look in all the houses and see for yourself.”

“Yeah? Can I?” Negan taunts, his boots stomping slowly across the floor above you. “You think I’m really fuckin’ dumb, don’t you, Grimes? You really expect me to believe she didn’t run her pretty ass back to her old pal Rick? You expect me to believe you weren’t the first people she turned to when she ran away from me?”

Rick’s voice sounds much closer when he speaks this time and you worry that Negan is finally going to find you. “Y-you’re right,” Rick admits shakily. “She came to me. She was here and I only let her stay for a day or two. She knew you would come after her so she left. She was long gone before you ever showed up.”

“Oh, Ricky, Ricky, Ricky,” Negan chides loudly. “You don’t wanna play that fuckin’ game with me.”

“I’m tellin’ you, she’s gone,” Rick repeats.

“No, see…I know you’re fuckin’ lyin’ to me, Rick,” Negan yells. “She came here and she’s still here!”

You flinch at the sound of Negan’s angry words, growing more and more anxious by the second. The sound of footsteps still move across the floor upstairs and you can picture Negan advancing on Rick, forcing him to back up in order to keep some distance between them. The steps eventually halt, though they’re right at the top of the stairs and that fact horrifies you. When Negan speaks again, he’s so close it sounds as if he’s already in the basement with you.

“C'mon, Rick,” Negan coos. “Just let me see her, I just wanna see her.”

_More like he just wants to kill me_ , you muse, praying Rick doesn’t give in. Negan continues pleading with Rick, the sound of him practically begging strange to hear. He offers Rick an easy out, saying he’ll leave Alexandria alone if Rick just lets him see you. Though his words are soft and calm, even you can see right through his ploy. There’s no way he’s going to keep his word, not after having to go to such lengths to find you.

A wave of nausea overcomes you when you hear the distinct sound of the doorknob upstairs rattling. You can’t see who it is trying to open the door, but you don’t need to; you know Negan has discovered the locked door and you also know how suspicious that’s going to look.

“Well, well, well,” Negan crows victoriously. “What’s behind door number one?!”

“It’s just an empty cellar,” Rick lies unconvincingly, his nervous voice confirming Negan’s belief that you’re here.

Negan laughs, though the sound is noticeably forced. “Step aside, Ricky. Let’s unlock this door and see what’s down there. I have a feeling I’m really gonna like what I find.“

You can hear the smile behind Negan’s words and the thought of his evil grin chills you. Though you can’t see what’s going on upstairs, you assume Rick is blocking the door and refusing to let Negan come downstairs. As suspicious as that is, you know Negan has already determined that Rick is hiding something and is just going to find his behavior annoying at this point. The snarled threat Negan unleashed only solidifies your belief.

"You got two choices here,” Negan barks. “You unlock this fuckin’ door and let me see her, or I’m gonna break both your legs and use the splintered pieces of your shins to pick the lock.”

“I’m not gonna do that,” Rick asserts.

“Ah ha! So she is here?” Negan states. “You’re a really shitty liar, Prick.”

Before Rick can respond, your hear a loud thump and a heavy weight hitting the floor. There’s what sounds to be some sort of struggle — boots and limbs hitting the floor and deep grunts filtering down from upstairs. You hear the distinct sound of jingling metal and you don’t know what it is until you hear the tumblers within the lock turning before the door whips open.

Scurrying into your cell, you pace back and forth, knowing you have nowhere left to run. _I’m gonna fucking die down here_ , you lament, skittering back and forth like a wild animal with nowhere to go. You look desperately around the mostly empty cell, searching hurriedly for anything you can use as a weapon to defend yourself. Unfortunately, a pair of boots begin to clomp loudly down the stairs before you can locate anything useful.

The moment the steps begin, they’re followed by a quick shuffling and then a second pair of boots moving speedily down the wooden steps. Your eyes are opened wide as you wait with bated breath for the confrontation you’ve been dreading.

As one boot and then another rouses a small cloud of dust at the bottom of the stairs, your gaze slides upwards over the long legs and the leather jacket until your eyes fall on the smirking face of Negan. Your lungs deflate immediately, your heart pounding in your chest as Negan’s hazel eyes meet yours from across the room. He pauses only a moment before he’s striding with frightening speed directly for you.

You’re sure Negan is going to snap your neck the second he reaches you with how determinedly he moves towards you, but he surprises you when he enters the cell and slams the door behind him with a loud clang. Using the keys he’s clearly stolen off of Rick, Negan reaches a thick arm through the bars of the cell and locks the door from the inside, effectively imprisoning you inside with him.

Rick finally makes his way down the stairs and you spot him from over Negan’s broad shoulder. Blood drips steadily from his right nostril and you surmise Negan had punched him in order to steal his keys and get down here. With no way to get to you and protect you, Rick wraps his hands around the bars of the cell and begins begging Negan not to do anything to you.

“Rick, don’t beg. It makes you look like a pussy,” Negan teases. “Nothing you say is gonna get you anywhere, so I suggest you shut the fuck up. Now stop being so goddamn rude and give me and my lady some privacy, will ya?”

With that, Negan rounds on you, leveling an intense stare in your direction. A shiver courses through your body at the conglomerate of raging emotions you find swirling in his eyes. Rick calls your name from outside the cell, though you’re unsure what he’s trying to accomplish. Negan raises his eyes and you know what he wants from you. You don’t understand why, but you obey his silent command without hesitation.

“It’s okay, Rick,” you assure him, though your voice wavers noticeably. “I’m fine. You should go. There’s nothing you can do.”

Rick puts up a bit of a fight, meeting your eyes with desperation as he offers a silent plea for you not to do this. No matter how terrified you are to be in the presence of Negan, you have no choice but to face him finally. You shake your head, making it clear that nothing Rick says can stop you; you have to surrender. With a defeated sigh and a weak plea for Negan not to hurt you, Rick drags his feet as he heads back up the stairs.

You don’t miss the fact that he doesn’t shut the door behind him and you can tell he remains just at the top of the stairs, which you’re thankful for. Your attention if quickly drawn back to Negan when he sniffs impatiently and you find him staring at you expectantly with his leather-clad biceps bulging as he stands with his arms crossed. When you finally look his way, he offers an eerie, toothy grin, the material of his jacket squeaking as he unfurls his long arms.

“Long time, no see, darlin’,” he purrs wickedly as he advances on you.

_Not long enough_ , you think, backing up slowly until your body slams into the far wall of the cell and you truly have nowhere else to run.


	17. Hustle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Negan is your last hope so you offer him the only thing you have left to convince him you’re worth saving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This is a re-post as I previously deleted this story and it also appears on AO3 as an orphaned work.)

**hus·tle /həsəl/**  
_**verb**_  
**1\. To con an opponent into gambling on a losing proposition.**

With the amount of furious hostility and spite you feel towards one another, being trapped in this tiny cell with Negan isn’t exactly ideal for either one of you. You press your body hard into the wall behind you, hoping by some miracle that the cinderblock will split open and swallow you whole, saving you from Negan’s wrath. Your wish doesn’t come true and you’re forced to remain where you are, face to face with the walking nightmare. You’re afraid of what you might do to him, but even more than that, you’re afraid of what you know he can do to you.

“Bet you thought you were gonna get away for good this time, huh?” Negan states. “Did I burst your little bubble, honey?”

“No, I knew you’d come for me,” you retort. “Because you’re a sore loser and you can’t handle the idea of being beat. Especially by a woman.”

You have no idea where the confidence comes from, but you’re going to embrace it. You’re not gonna let Negan scare you anymore. Straightening your spine, you puff your chest out, taking joy in the slightly stunned look on Negan’s face.

“Shit. I can’t tell if you have balls or you’re just incredibly stupid,” Negan observes, taking a few steps closer to you. “You know who had some fuckin’ balls? That pretty little thing that tried to kill me. You remember her? Remember how you took her out for me? Just look what happened to her, sweetheart. She had balls and now she’s dead…kind of a shame ‘cause she was super fuckin’ hot. Maybe havin’ balls isn’t something you want. Maybe you wanna consider tuckin’ those beach ball-sized lady nuts away for a little while.”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong, Negan,” you counter with an offended hiss. “She had balls, but she got herself killed. She was useless.”

“Ooh, touchy subject. You jealous, doll?” Negan taunts. “Don’t worry, I still think you’re super fuckin’ hot, too.”

Ignoring Negan’s comment, you continue. “No. I’m not jealous. If anything, I pity her. She had balls, but she had no skill. She had her chance and couldn’t kill you and now she’s dead.“

“Oh, yeah?” Negan laughs, still moving closer as he regards you with amusement. “If I remember correctly, you failed to kill me too. At least twice. So maybe I should think about getting rid of you too.”

“Fuck you,” you scoff dismissively.

By now, Negan is within arms reach and he takes advantage of his proximity, wrapping a hand around your elbow and pulling you away from the wall. You feel a tiny pang of fear, but remembering your resolve not to be afraid of Negan, you stand toe to toe with him and refuse to cower under his harsh glare.

“I would tread very fuckin’ carefully here if I were you,” he warns lowly. “One wrong move and I will kill every last motherfucker here. Maybe I’ll leave a couple of ‘em alive, just so they know you’re responsible for it. So that while they’re out there unprotected and starving, they’ll know they never should’ve trusted you.”

You’re completely unresponsive to Negan’s threat, neither amused nor angry with him. Instead, you stare blankly up at him, waiting impatiently for him to release his crushing grip on your arm. He can make every threat under the sun, you know there’s not much more he can do to hurt you at this point. He’s already worn you down and ruined what few relationships you’d managed to form. Now all that’s left is for you to let him know he has no control over you. Sensing your disregard for his warning, Negan grows visibly angrier.

“You know…I keep wondering why both my escaped prisoners went running straight to Prick’s door. I mean, Daryl I can understand. They were still on good terms because Daryl wasn’t a horny little traitor. But you…well, that just don’t make much sense to me,” Negan drawls pensively. “You’d have to be desperate to go to Rick for help after everything. And it got me to thinkin’…it’s because you have no one else. You have nowhere to go. And after this? Rick is gonna send your ass packing. I’m your last hope for survival, aren’t I?”

Both your confidence and your face crumble upon hearing Negan’s statement. He’s found your weakness and he’s using it against you, knowing that you need him more than he wants you. You know he’s going to hold this over your head now and try to use it to manipulate you again. Though you try not to react, you know it’s written all over your face that Negan has hit the nail on the head.

“Thought so,” he whispers victoriously in your ear. “You’re just a silly little girl who can’t take care of herself. You need me. You need me to take you back because you’ll never make it otherwise. Might be in your interest to fuckin’ work with me for once.”

Sick of listening to Negan’s cold, cruel words, you lash out to get him to shut up. You can’t figure out why he’s so adamant to get you back, but you’re done hearing about it. Wrenching your elbow out of his clutches, you shove both hands against his chest and force him to back up before you swing your arm and land a forceful slap against his cheek.

Negan reacts instantly, gripping your hips and slamming you back into the wall. The pressure of his hand against your sore wound prompts you to cry out and twist your body harshly to escape the pain. Negan takes notice and lets you go, though he makes no effort to figure out why you’ve reacted the way you did.

“You’re such a fucking asshole,” you pant weakly, tears welling in your eyes as your side begins to throb.

“Gotta admit, I really missed your sassy little mouth,” Negan growls before he pounces on you.

The pressure of Negan’s lips on your own takes you so off guard that for a brief moment, you don’t even respond. Even when he braces one wide palm between your shoulders and another along your lower back, your stiff and frozen body offers no resistance. For the first time ever, you realize that Negan is kissing you with the absence of an audience or someone below him that he feels the need to assert himself in front of. The kiss is soft and gentle and uncomfortably intimate, though you don’t reciprocate and you dare not let yourself enjoy the moment.

With your palms pressed just below his collarbones, you shove Negan away. “Don’t,” you murmur quietly.

Negan doesn’t respond to your rejection, but he captures your eyes in an intense stare. He shifts the hand between your shoulders towards your face and gently drags his fingertips along your jaw and over your lips. Using his thumb, he tugs at your lower lip before leaning in to kiss you again.

“Negan, no,” you deny him once more. “I won’t let you pretend nothing happened. Like you didn’t hurt me…destroy me. You don’t get to act like you aren’t the bad guy.”

“One thing I’ve never been accused of is being good,” Negan rasps, releasing your lips and using a long, slender finger to wipe away the tears that begin to trail down your cheek.

That’s probably the most honest and genuine thing Negan has ever said to you. For once, his words aren’t a riddle swaddled in an illusion and hidden behind smoke and mirrors. He’s well aware of his evil nature and so are you. There’s no use in him trying to hide it or tip-toe around it. Negan is a monster and he knows it. His one simple statement is worth much more than what it seems; it says more than Negan himself ever could. He’s admitting what he is and in a way, he’s asking you to accept that. You’re just not sure if you can.

Unsure where to go from here, you lower your head so that Negan is forced to remove his hand from your face. Looking down at your bare feet and Negan’s dusty boots, you wait in suspense for Negan to decide what to do next.

“Put your shoes on, we should get going before Ricky Dicky gets impatient and comes back down here to kick my ass,” Negan jests.

You whip your head up then, a bit taken aback by Negan’s words. “I haven’t agreed to anything. I don’t wanna go back there,” you debate, your voice watery and shaking. “I don’t want to spend my whole life being punished by you.”

Negan’s face falls, a dark and frightening expression blanketing his face. “I’m getting real tired of your bullshit, sweetheart,” he snarls as he reaches for the radio dangling from his belt. “Simon! Give 'em a little taste of what’s to come. Let everyone know we’re about to light this place up like the Fourth of fuckin’ July.”

You furrow your brows at Negan’s barked command, confused as to what he’s referring to. Within a few seconds, you hear a distant explosion. The walls of the house above you rattle and you glance up for a moment before looking back at Negan. Spotting the evil grin splitting his lips, you comprehend what’s happening and you start to pound your fists against his broad chest.

“This is what I fucking mean!” you screech. “You always have to threaten me to get what you want. You always put me in shitty positions where the only choices I have fucking suck! I’m fucking sick of your games, Negan!”

Negan wraps his large hands around both your wrists and jerks, causing you to stumble into his arms. He holds most of your weight up while pulling your face close to his own. “Fine, you don’t wanna come with me? Then fuckin’ don’t,” he hisses irately. “You go ahead and stay here. You and I both know you’re not safe. And you’ll be even less safe when I blow your precious little community to pieces and everyone blames you.”

He shoves you away from him then, before whirling around and stomping to the door of the cell. He shoves the key into the lock and swings the door open with enough force to send a reverberating metallic crash through the room. You remain on the far side of the cell and watch Negan stride angrily towards the stairs before you realize it’s a mistake to challenge him. Just as he lifts the radio again to speak into it and order his men to attack, you change your mind.

“Negan!” you call.

“Nope! We’re done playing, baby,” he crows, not even bothering to stop walking or even turn around to look at you.

“Wait! You’re right, I need you,” you admit desperately as you jog out of the cell and try to catch up to Negan.

He’s more than halfway up the stairs when he finally stops and turns around to acknowledge your plea. “Yeah. You need me. But you lost your chance. You don’t get shit now.”

“Please, Negan,” you beg from the base of the staircase. “You need me, too. I have something you need. Hear me out. Please.”

Your words grab Negan’s full attention and he steps slowly back down the stairs towards you. The way he slinks back down is eerie and predatory, but you don’t let the intimidation show on your face. As nervous as you are, you bravely meet Negan’s heated gaze, silently pleading with him to listen to you and give you another chance.

“What could you possibly have that I need?” he whispers coldly.

“Information,” you force out through the tightness of your dry throat. “Your enemy is a lot closer to home than you think. If you promise me I’ll be safe and unharmed if I come with you, I’ll tell you everything I know.”

“And how do I know you’re not lying to me? Why should I trust you?” Negan asks, his fingers delving into your hair and tilting your head back, forcing you to look directly at him. “Where did you even get this supposed information?”

Your breaths quiver as you stare into Negan’s hazel eyes for a moment, choosing your words carefully. “I have nothing to gain from lying to you. And if I am lying…you can and will kill me as soon as you find out,” you assure him. “I spent a lot of time around the Sanctuary…I saw and heard a lot. I know who’s trying to take you down. They tried to break me out. I know what they did and what they’re planning to do. If you guarantee my safety, I’ll tell you anything you wanna know.”

Suspense wracks your body as you await Negan’s response to your offer. At this point, you don’t even care that you’re about to rat out someone who once tried to help you. In the end, Dwight had tried to kill you and he deserves this. You know Negan already has his suspicions about the man and you hope he finds your confession useful enough to take you back with him.

“Who is it?” Negan grunts impatiently, pulling your hair and causing you to gasp. “Tell me who it is. I wanna know this isn’t just bullshit.”

“It’s Dwight,” you whimper, struggling to free yourself from his painful grasp.

Negan eases up then, seeming to believe your admission. Apparently that was the answer he’d been looking for and you’ve proven that you do in fact know something. His hand lets go of your hair and shifts to cradle the back of your head as he considers your words. Much to your surprise, Negan leans forward and presses a chaste kiss to your cheek.

“So that’s what you want then?” he queries. “You wanna come back to me? You wanna be mine again?”

Though you were never really his, you agree nonetheless. Nodding as much as you can with Negan’s hand holding your head, you sign away your freedom once more. With such limited options, you know you have to agree to this. Negan is right; he truly is your only chance for survival.

Pleased with your submission, Negan offers a smile with just the tiniest bit of warmth. The gesture makes you somewhat uncomfortable, but it’s gone as soon as it appeared. Negan grabs your hand and leads you up the stairs where you find Rick waiting for you. He steps towards you immediately, clearly poised for a fight.

“What’s going on?” Rick wonders frantically, his eyes flicking between you and Negan.

“Remember our agreement?” you state. “You promised, Rick. It’s better if I go.”

Rick opens his mouth to argue, but you hold up a hand to stop him. Shaking your head, you tell Rick it isn’t worth arguing. He has to let you go because it’s the safest option.

“You hear that big boom before, Rick?” Negan interrupts, tossing the keyring back to Rick. “That was one of my guys tossing a grenade into your community. Now they’ve got a truck filled with an assload of explosives, just waitin’ to put on a show for ya. You wanna let her come with me or would you rather me blow your country-fried ass into next week?”

Negan barely gives Rick a chance to answer before he’s guiding you out of the house. You follow along obediently, trying not to give too much thought to what you’re doing. About halfway to the front entrance, you pull gently against Negan’s hold, causing him to stop. He turns to face you on the dark street, nothing but the dim moonlight illuminating his face. He bunches his brow, looking down at you and wondering why you’ve stopped.

“Tell me you won’t hurt me,” you request breathlessly, unable to meet Negan’s gaze.

He doesn’t speak right away, but you can hear the heavy sigh Negan lets out. You swallow thickly, worried that merely voicing your concern is going to get you in trouble. Regardless, you need to be sure you aren’t walking straight into a deathtrap.

“Look at me,” Negan demands softly.

You don’t immediately obey so Negan repeats the command again, his tone unnaturally calm and patient. When you glance up at him, you’re relieved to see no anger in his eyes though you know the fear is shining clearly in your own. He props a single finger under your chin and tips your face up, observing your expression closely.

“Are you scared?” he beseeches, waiting for you to confirm before he continues. “Why?”

“You hurt me,” you bite out, insulted that he’s acting as if he doesn’t remember any of the things he’d done to you. “You hurt me so many times. Maybe not always physically, but you were always looking to punish me. And I can’t do it anymore. If I’m gonna be treated like an object, I can’t go with you. I don’t wanna live like that again…constantly walking on eggshells around you and wondering what little thing is gonna set you off.”

“I never wanted you to be afraid of me,” is all Negan offers before he turns away and encourages you to follow after him.

Not satisfied with the answer you’ve gotten, you attempt to deter Negan once more. He turns around again, though this time he seems more irritated. You stop trying to free your arm from Negan’s grip, hoping he’ll relax a little.

“I need your word, Negan,” you demand firmly. “You can’t hurt me anymore.”

“Alright, you have my word,” he responds with exasperation. “Now let’s go.”

You accept his answer then, knowing deep down that Negan is in fact a man of his word. Evil as he is, he isn’t one to go back on a deal. At least that’s what you tell yourself anyway. 

As you climb into the truck beside Negan, you know this doesn’t erase any of the trauma you’d suffered at his hand. There’s still a lot of tension and unresolved problems to be dealt with between the pair of you, but you know your long-awaited compliance is a step in the right direction.


	18. Lifeline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Negan takes you back to the Sanctuary, and you both must deal with being reunited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This is a re-post as I previously deleted this story and it also appears on AO3 as an orphaned work.)

**life·line /līfˌlīn/**  
_**noun**_  
**1\. An opportunity given (usually by accident) to an opponent who is down.**

Returning to the Sanctuary feels surreal and as you follow Negan down the halls, you can’t help feeling like every person you pass is looking at you with judgmental eyes. It’s not as if you don’t deserve their criticism; after all, you’d spent weeks planning and executing an escape only to end up crawling right back to Negan. At least here, you know Negan can protect you from anyone who isn’t quite ready to accept your presence in their home.

When you arrive at Negan’s room, he holds the door open for you, allowing you into his space. It’s odd to be back here too, as you never thought you’d see the inside of Negan’s quarters ever again. You stand awkwardly in the center of the room, unsure if it’s acceptable for you to sit down and make yourself comfortable. You don’t know what Negan expects of you or whether you’ll even be living with him like you used to.

It doesn’t take long before you and Negan are at each other’s throats. You can tell there’s something else going on with him and that paired with the unresolved tension between you makes for a volatile environment. What started off as a casual conversation quickly turns into an argument. You can’t tell when exactly the mood changes, but the next thing you know, you’re going at Negan; bringing up the past without even bothering to filter your words.

“And what if I don’t? What are you gonna do, Negan?” you yell. “Bend me over and shove your dick into me until I say yes?”

“Fuck you,” Negan hisses in response, evidently offended by your barb. “Don’t act like you never had the option to say no. You always _wanted_ me to fuck you.”

You scoff at Negan’s poor defense, hardly believing what you’re hearing. You recall the few times you’d denied Negan and ended up paying for it. “Was it really an option though? Is it a choice when you’re punished for making it? I could say no, but there were always consequences.”

“Only because you were already being punished in the first place!” Negan argues. “I would never punish you for saying no and I wasn’t gonna force you into anything. There were consequences because you owed me, not because you said no.”

Negan begins pacing back and forth, struggling to keep his distance and not put his hands on you. His fists clench at his sides and he bares his teeth, just waiting for you to say something else. You chose your words carefully, trying to decide if you want to piss him off further or make him feel bad for what he did to you.

“You always treated me like a misbehaved dog or a piece of meat, I can’t believe I ever agreed to come back here with you,” you intone. “How long is it gonna be before you do it again? How long before no isn’t an option? How long before you start hitting me, too?”

With a surprising show of restraint, Negan manages not to fire back at you. Instead, he silently glares at you for a long moment, his face falling and his shoulders slumping in a gesture of defeat. You know Negan is notorious for disguising his anger with an icy calm and you brace yourself for him to come after you. Without another word, Negan turns around and whips the door open before forcefully slamming it shut behind him and leaving you alone in his room.

You remain rooted to the spot, wondering why Negan had opted to leave rather than continue hashing this out with you. Maybe he really is just that sick of you. With a deep breath, you walk to the bed and take a seat at the edge. You drop your head into your hands before running your fingers through your hair.

Once your anger wears off, you find yourself feeling a bit remorseful for what you’d said to Negan. While you believe he probably deserves every bit of your resentment and bitterness, you certainly could have handled the situation better. There’s a lot of the past that needs to be acknowledged, but this isn’t the best way; you need to talk to Negan rather than yell at him and hurl insults his way. It’s not ideal, but if you’re going to be living here with Negan, you both need to get everything out in the open.

You briefly consider leaving the room to go after Negan, but you decide it’s best to give him space and let him cool down. Besides, you know from experience that leaving this room is only going to get you into more trouble. For a long while, you stretch across Negan’s soft mattress, awaiting his return. After about an hour, you grow increasingly bored and opt to find something else to occupy your time.

Heading for the bookshelf across the room, you smile to yourself when you see Negan has acquired several new books. You reach out to grab one, though your hand freezes when your eyes scan over the spine of a book lying on top of the shelf. Recognizing the title of your favorite book, you know for a fact that it hadn’t been a part of Negan’s library the last time you were here. It’s then you recall a conversation you’d once had with him where you’d mentioned this particular book to him. You wonder whether he’d specifically looked for it and the very idea of that gesture has you feeling even more guilty for the way you’d spoken to Negan earlier.

Pulling the book from the shelf, you flip it open, noticing that one of the pages about halfway through has been creased at the corner. You run your fingers over the crinkled paper, wondering if Negan had been reading this. Taking a seat on the floor, you cross your legs and flip to the first page to begin reading. You smile at the familiar words, taking comfort in the small reminder of life before the world fell apart. You’re so enthralled with the book, you barely register the sound of the door opening as Negan enters.

When the door clicks shut, you finally look up to find Negan shuffling into the room. He doesn’t even glance your way and his expression is one of exhaustion and stress. Sliding the book you’re holding off of your lap, you fold your hands atop your legs and twist your fingers nervously. Unable to gauge Negan’s mood, you’re not sure whether you should say anything to him. As he removes his leather jacket and tosses it over the desk chair, you decide it’s now or never.

“Negan?” you murmur, waiting for him to look your way before you continue. “I’m sorry for what I said before. Or I guess I’m sorry for yelling at you. I’m not sorry for telling you how I feel. You should know about it. We should talk about it. Civilized…like adults.”

As you begin rambling, Negan paces slowly across the room towards you. He stops in front of you, towering over your seated form until you eventually cease talking. When you glance up at him, his expression hasn’t changed. He still looks angry and stressed and you begin to second-guess your plan to try having a conversation with the grumpy man. Negan stretches his arm out, wordlessly offering his hand to you. You hesitate before taking it, allowing him to pull you to your feet and push you gently towards the leather couches.

“Sit,” he demands shortly, directing you to one couch while he sits opposite you on the other one. “Let’s talk.”

“About what exactly?” you inquire crossing both your arms and your legs as you wait for clarification.

Negan throws his arms wide, shrugging dramatically. “This ain’t about me. Tell me whatever you were trying to tell me earlier…before you ripped my head off. Let’s talk about your _feelings_.”

You blatantly ignore Negan’s mocking tone and his foul mood, deciding to take the high road and finally get some things off your chest. “Okay well, for starters, I think we need to talk about how you treated me. I know I have no room to be making demands, but if you’re going to do that to me again, you may as well just kill me now because I won’t live like that.”

“I told you I wouldn’t hurt you,” Negan reiterates defensively, spreading his legs and leaning back comfortably with one arm draped along the back of the couch. “Don’t play dumb, doll. You know I don’t have anything to leverage against you anymore. I got nothin’ left to threaten you with.”

You’re surprised by Negan’s candor, hardly believing that he’s admitting he no longer has a way to manipulate you. “As relieved as I am to hear that, I still think we should clear the air. I’d like us to get along so we don’t have a repeat of what’s already happened with us, but that isn’t gonna work until you acknowledge that your behavior was wrong.”

“ _My_ behavior?” Negan snaps, sitting up to brace his elbows on his knees and glare at you. “Why’s this my fault? Need I remind you that you were the one who completely ignored everything I told you and kept trying to break outta here?”

“I wouldn’t have had to break out if you weren’t behaving the way you were!” you retort, voice raised. “I was terrified of you, what else was I supposed to do?”

“You wouldn’t have had anything to be afraid of if you just listened,” Negan grunts, pointing an accusatory finger in your direction. “If you did what I asked, we coulda gotten along just fine.”

Sighing heavily, you realize this conversation is just going in circles. Negan isn’t going to admit that he’s wrong and you’re not going to just let him get away with everything he’s done. At this point, the only thing you can do is tell him how much it affected you and hope that somehow it gets through to him.

“Agree to disagree about who’s at fault then,” you concede. “But you can’t deny that the last night I was here, you were way out of line. You hurt me.”

“I know,” Negan murmurs, finally showing at least the slightest sign of regret as he releases some of his angry tension and his body slumps a bit. “And I know you’re looking for an apology, but you’re not gonna get one. I lost control, but you pushed me way too far. I could’ve handled the situation better, but I’m not sorry for punishing you.”

The illusion of any progress you think you’ve made is shattered in that moment. It hurts that Negan refuses to apologize to you; even if he doesn’t mean it, the least he can do is say the words just to patch things over. Wrapping your arms tighter around yourself, you begin to wonder if it’s even possible to mend things with Negan.

“Why me?” you whisper, looking down at the ground. “Why was it so important for you to control me?”

“Because I wanted to break you,” Negan admits coldly. “You were so stubborn and strong-willed. Dangerous thing for the enemy to have. I had to make you mine.”

Negan explains no further, letting his words hang heavily in the air between you. He’d set out to break you and perhaps he had, but you realize now that his tactics had only made you stronger. Broken or not, he only made you want to fight harder to survive without him. Before you have a chance to say anything else, a soft knock sounds through the room.

“What?” Negan barks, beckoning the visitor in.

The door opens slowly before Simon peeks around it, his hand running nervously across his thick mustache as he glances around. When he spots you and Negan across the room, he steps inside and clears his throat.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he rasps. “Just wanted to let you know the boys took care of the…body. Anything else you need, boss?”

Negan merely shoos Simon away with a dismissive wave of his hand. You consider Simon’s words and wonder what they’re in reference to. Shifting your attention back to the man across from you, you imagine whatever is going on is likely contributing to Negan’s moodiness. As you watch him, he lowers his head and rubs his fingertips over his forehead in agitation.

“Is everything okay?” you venture softly.

“Yeah,” Negan scoffs sardonically. “Half my people think I’m goin’ soft, someone here is plotting against me, and I just had to roast one of my wives like a fuckin’ jet-puffed marshmallow. Everything’s fuckin’ peachy, honey.”

Shocked by Negan’s words, you sit across from him with your mouth agape and your brain unable to come up with an appropriate response. You can’t believe things have gotten this bad since you’d been gone; you knew Dwight was conspiring against Negan, but you had no idea anyone else was questioning his leadership. 

Even worse than all of that though is the fact that Negan just mentioned that he’s killed one of his wives. At what point is that fate going to befall you as well? Carefully observing Negan, you tuck yourself further into the leather couch and swallow thickly before you ask.

“What happened with your wife?” you voice nervously.

Negan peeks up at you from between the fingers of the hand still pressed against his forehead, taking note of your apprehension. “Amber…she overdosed. Killed herself,” he states blandly. “Some piece of shit gave her a bunch of pills they stole from the infirmary. Left me to be the one who had to make sure she stayed dead.”

Though he’s not exactly emotional, you can still tell that losing one of his wives and then having to put her down and burn her corpse has taken it’s toll on Negan. Not to mention the fact that he seems to be losing control of everything else around him, too. Suddenly it makes sense why Negan had been so determined to find you and bring you back. He’s desperately trying to get a grasp on things and reassure himself that he’s in control of _something_.

Feeling sympathetic to his obvious distress, you stand slowly and venture across the small space to sit beside Negan on the couch. Unsure how to comfort him, your hands hover awkwardly above Negan’s shoulder before dropping uselessly into your lap.

“Why did she do it?” you ask quietly.

“You really need to ask? You already know the answer to that,” Negan mutters, his voice tired and strained. “She did it for the same reason that you’ve barely been able to look me in the eyes since you got back here.”

“Because you’re a heartless, selfish, and cruel bastard?” you offer, a sad attempt at humor to lighten the uncomfortably heavy mood between you.

Negan chuckles lightly before turning his head to look at you with a sad smile. “Yeah, that’s about the size of it, huh?”

“Well, at least you admit it,” you tease, finally reaching out to lightly pat Negan’s thigh.

“Listen…I know shit between us got out of hand. I want you to know that I never wanted to or meant to hurt you. It doesn’t change the fact that I did, but still…I just…need you to know,” Negan repeats, sounding more sincere this time. “If I could go back and do things differently, I would. I tried so hard to get through to you and I fucked you up. In the end, none of this shit even fuckin’ matters.”

Neither accepting nor denying Negan’s half-assed attempt at an apology, you finally meet his eyes and what you find there almost makes you feel sorry for Negan’s inner turmoil. 

“Yeah…none of it matters,” you confirm before putting a bit more space between the two of you. “So, um…I should probably go stay somewhere else. In another room, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Why would you do that?” Negan demands with confusion.

“Negan, I don’t want anyone here to get the wrong idea. And I don’t want your wives to think you’re replacing Amber like she was nothing,” you admit. “Everyone already knows you’re a cold-hearted asshole, but I don’t think I need to solidify their beliefs by sleeping in here with you.”

Nodding his head slowly, Negan looks down, clearly deep in thought. “I get it. If it changes your mind at all, they aren’t my wives anymore. That’s finished. I told them they were free to go back to being members of my community with no repercussions. So, technically…you’re the only one who’d be sleeping with me,” he jokes weakly, an odd sadness weighing down his words.

“Don’t I feel special?” you quip sarcastically. “Still, I shouldn’t…” you trail off as you stand up and move to step around Negan.

Before you can slip past him, Negan’s hand whips out and snatches your wrist, halting your movements. “Stay…please.”

The fragile thinness in Negan’s voice is the only thing that makes you turn back to look at him. Not because he’d asked you to and not even because he said please, but because you can hear how much he needs you. Because you can tell how much he needs someone to comfort him, more than you’d ever needed. He’s lost and you’re the one thing he has so he’s clinging to you, quite literally.

Negan stands then, not releasing his hold on your wrist as he towers over you. You tilt your head back to meet his eyes, watching as he hesitantly leans forward, a questioning look in his eyes. Seeing that you aren’t pulling away or stopping him, Negan presses his lips to yours with gentle force. You reciprocate the kiss, parting your lips slightly as it grows more heated.

With an arm wrapped around your lower back, Negan begins walking you backwards towards the bed. One hand lifts to cup your cheek before he attempts to push you onto the mattress, but you resist. Pulling away from Negan’s lips, your fingers reach for his waist, moving without hesitation against his belt. He looks at you with question for a moment, though he makes no move to halt you.

Well aware that Negan isn’t one to show his emotion, you want to give him a means to release what he’s feeling in a way that he’s comfortable with. You’re giving him something to channel his afflictions into. Making sure he isn’t going to stop you, you remove Negan’s belt and drop it to the floor before reaching for the closure on his gray pants. His breathing picks up as he watches you closely, stopping you only for a moment to whip his t-shirt up and over his head and pop his boots off.

Negan reaches for you to do the same with your shirt, but you grip his wrists and deter him. Using your hold on him, you turn Negan around and shove against his chest, somehow managing to force his massive form down onto the mattress. He looks up at you with surprise as you quickly slip out of your boots and pants before climbing astride Negan’s thighs.

His hands reach for your hips right away, fingers dancing along the hem of your t-shirt. You brace your palms on his bare chest, slowly rolling your hips against Negan’s growing hardness and earning a deep groan from beneath you. You continue swinging your hips and grinding against Negan, relishing in the tiny bit of control he’s allowing you to have.

Your new-found power over him doesn’t last long, however, as Negan grows so worked up that he can no longer stand your teasing. With a deep growl, he grips your waist and flips you both over, trapping your body beneath him. Slipping between your thighs, Negan mimics your taunting behavior by pressing himself against your heated core until you’re moaning and writhing.

Negan reaches between your bodies, gliding his fingers over your center and making you well aware of how much your arousal has soaked through your thin panties. You gasp at the pressure against your cloth-covered folds, meeting Negan’s eyes and wordlessly begging him for more. He continues his ministrations, rubbing you into a panting frenzy before he gives in. He pushes you right to the edge, then rips his hand away, prompting you to whine needfully.

Silencing your cry with a fervent kiss, Negan’s tongue swirls against your own as he reaches down to sweep your shirt and bra from your body. His lips travel from your mouth, down your neck, and across your breasts. He pays particular attention to your nipples, swirling his warm, wet tongue over the delicate flesh. You arch your back at the sensation before Negan presses a hand to your hip to pin you to the mattress. His hand unintentionally covers your bandaged wound and you yelp at the pain it causes.

Yanking his mouth away from you, Negan levels a concerned look at you before glancing down and spotting the bandage. He observes the large bit of gauze for a moment before bracing a hand beside your head.

“What is this?” he asks breathlessly.

“Not important,” you hiss, grabbing his face and pulling him into a kiss as you raise your hips to bump against his pelvis. “Need you.”

Those two words are all it takes to distract Negan from your injury as he ravishes your mouth and his hands move over every inch of skin he can reach, pinching and massaging until you’re practically vibrating with need. Moving with very little grace, Negan wrestles his pants off his long legs. Now clad only in a pair of tight, dark briefs, there’s no disguising the fact that Negan is just as aroused as you are. Looming over you, he tucks his fingers into the waistband of your panties and eases them over your hips and down your legs. You watch him as you nibble your lower lip, eyes burning with a fiery need.

Negan fits his slender hips between your thighs, lowering his underwear just enough to release his throbbing erection. You whimper when Negan presses the hot length of his cock against you, your arousal slicking his flesh as he slides it through your wet folds. With both of you desperate and needy, Negan wastes no time slipping the head of his manhood into you. You cry out, already feeling full with only a few inches inside of you.

Pausing to allow your body to adjust and relax, Negan drives his hips forward with slow and steady ease until he’s buried deep in your clenching heat. Your legs wrap around his waist and your nails rake sharply over the planes of his rippling back muscles as he pulls almost all the way out only to slam back into your depths. He keeps a smooth pace, not moving too fast or pumping his hips too hard as he chases his release.

Negan leans forward, his lips latching onto the skin of your shoulder. You squeeze your muscles around his length and he exhales shakily, his warm breath sweeping over the shell of your ear. Keeping his hips moving at a fluid pace, Negan’s hands grip your sides, clinging to you as his muscles begin to shake. He lifts your hips nearer to his own, bringing your bodies as close together as he can, leaving not even a fraction of space between you.

There’s something suffocating about the emotions billowing between you; the crushing weight makes you feel sick and causes a wave of panic to course through you, but you do your best to ignore the feeling. You’re at a complete loss for words as you can feel the waves of guilt and sorrow rolling off of Negan as he rocks into you. It’s like a physical being sharing the bed with you; a living, breathing entity so real and raw that you imagine you could reach out and touch his pain.

“I missed all the sounds you make for me,” Negan rasps, burrowing his face along your neck and inhaling the scent of your skin.

His words pull you from your own head, returning you to the present and the sensations Negan is causing throughout your body. As your body tenses and your muscles clench, you cry out and Negan grips you harder. One hand around the back of your neck pulls your face to his as he captures your lips in a desperate kiss and the other grips your ass, fingers digging into the flesh as Negan holds you steady and delivers several deep, well-aimed thrusts.

You explode around him then, your body rippling with pleasure as you hold on to Negan for dear life. He reciprocates your embrace, latching onto you so hard you’re not sure either on of you is ever going to let go. Negan isn’t far behind you, maintaining his rhythm as you orgasm while he rushes towards his own climax. He swallows all of your moans, his mouth not leaving yours as he voices his own pleasure against your pillowy lips. Your limbs tangle around one another as Negan finds his releases, pouring all of his pain into you.

As you come down from your respective highs, you’re sure the shivers wracking your body aren’t just the result of your own quaking muscles. Negan’s weight falls over you, his limbs vibrating and his chest heaving as he seeks to calm himself. Your senses are assaulted by all of him; his scent invading your nose, his sticky flesh pressed against your own, the taste of him still on your lips, and the warmth of him still deep inside you.

When Negan finally pulls away, you’re surprised that his face isn’t streaked in tears, though his eyes shine with moisture. He swallows thickly before kissing you softly and slipping from inside you to lie at your side and pull you close to his warm body. Remaining silent, Negan just holds you in his arms, his breathing slowing down and steadying as you merely stare at the thin layer of hair covering his chest. 

You try to slide away from him, but Negan’s face screws up with unhappiness the moment your body tenses to move. He tightens his hold on you before shifting his weight to lay his cheek over your chest, his ear pressed just above your pounding heart.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers against your flushed skin, his scruff scratching the soft flesh.

You choke back a sob because it’s then you accept that Negan is just as broken as you are. Something had twisted him up inside, so badly that it had turned him into this; he’d become a heartless, merciless person who believes they have to be cruel to be in control. Cradling his head against your chest, you rub soothing circles over Negan’s smooth back while your fingers massage his scalp.

After a few minutes, Negan shifts his attention to the bandage near your hip. He runs his fingers over it with a light touch before sliding further down your body to place a gentle kiss above the wound.

“What happened?” he mumbles, his tawny eyes turning up to look at you.

“It’s just a cut,” you deflect, shaking your head. “I’ll live.”

Knowing that Negan isn’t in the right state of mind to know that one of his men stabbed you, you decide to keep that bit of information to yourself. Besides, you know Negan hasn’t forgotten the deal you’ve made to give him what little information you have regarding the traitor living among his people; when that conversation comes up, you’ll tell him what happened. There’s no need to make him feel more guilty now, not to mention the fact that you’ll have to tell Negan about the pregnancy you’d lost because of the attack. You know there will be a right time to reveal it all to Negan, and that time isn’t now.

Somehow, Negan lets it go, not pushing any further for answers. He settles back against your chest, sighing deeply as he relaxes against you. He runs his fingertips along your arm, tracing random patterns into the skin. Settling into the pillow beneath your head, you shut your eyes and allow Negan’s gentle touch to lull you into sleep.


	19. Lights Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Negan utilizes some important information you’ve given him and you decide if you’re ready to forgive him finally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This is a re-post as I previously deleted this story and it also appears on AO3 as an orphaned work.)

**lights out /līts out/**  
_**adjective**_  
**1\. A phrase used to describe someone playing at the top of his or her game.**

A slight pressure creeping between your thighs rouses you from your slumber and based on the way your head throbs and your heavy eyes refuse to open, you know you haven’t gotten anywhere near enough sleep. The fogginess in your head isn’t clearing fast enough for you to realize what the tickling sensation on your leg is and you grumble crankily as you pull away from the annoyance. When a deep chuckle sounds from somewhere near you, you’re immediately aware of what’s happening.

Squinting a single eye open, you’re met with the blurry sight of Negan, barely visible in the dim light of his room. You turn to bury your head back into your pillow only to realize you’re laying on Negan’s bulging bicep. Hoping you hadn’t drooled on him in your sleep, you shift your only open eye up towards Negan’s face, discovering that he’s watching you. Even in the darkness, you can tell from the shadowy, sunken circles around Negan’s eyes that he hasn’t slept.

You screw your face up as Negan trails his fingertips further up your bare thigh, venturing towards your center. “You seriously woke me up for this?” you whine, closing your legs around Negan’s hand to stop his movement.

“Not exactly,” he laughs before pulling his hand away. “I have some things to take care of and I figured waking you up like this was better than shaking you.”

“I’m failing to see why I need to be awake at all,” you complain, finally opening both of your eyes when Negan reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

It’s the odd tenderness in the gesture that gets your attention and begins to draw you from your groggy state. Even after last night, you still feel as though you need to be on edge with Negan; it’s just a habitual reaction at this point. You’re unsure if and when he’s going to snap and that fact has you apprehensive of his every move.

“We need to talk,” Negan responds, twisting his lips into a fallacy of a smile.

“This couldn’t wait until the sun is actually up?” you grumble, your sleepy brain not considering the consequences of your snarky attitude.

Seeing Negan’s smile fall, you brace yourself. “We need to talk about Dwight,” he intones, all playfulness gone from his voice.

All lingering exhaustion vanishes from your body then; your muscles taut and your back ramrod straight. Swallowing thickly, you pull the sheet up over your bare chest as you push away from Negan and prop yourself up on the pillow beside him. He sits up as well, tilting his body so he’s facing you, one hand braced beside your thigh, the other hanging loosely over his knee as he bends it and settles into a comfortable position.

“So what do you know? What kind of information did you think I was gonna find useful?” Negan interrogates.

“I think Dwight is the person working against you. Or at least one of the people,” you admit, tightening the sheet around your body and using the thin cloth as a shield to protect you from the shame you feel for handing Dwight to Negan on a silver platter.

“How do you know?” he beseeches.

“He came to me one day and said he would help me get out of the Sanctuary,” you confess, cringing when Negan tenses beside you. “That day you left me in the cells with him, he tried to get me out. He let Daryl go.”

You don’t hide the bitterness in your tone, still resentful over the way Negan had forced you to watch your friend being tortured for your wrongdoings. Looking down, you begin plucking restlessly at the bedsheets, refusing to meet Negan’s eyes.

“You’re the one who did that to Dwight, then?” he asks, not waiting for your answer. “I burned the shit outta him for letting you get away, but if I knew he purposely let Daryl go too, I woulda killed him.”

A shiver courses through your body at the sound of the icy disdain in Negan’s words. If he’s this angry about Dwight letting you escape, you can’t even imagine the explosive reaction he’s going to have when he finds out what else Dwight has done. Suddenly, you’re unsure if you even want him to know; you’re afraid to be around Negan once he knows about Dwight’s actions.

“What else do you know?” Negan hisses, his anger evident.

You shake your head quickly, denying that you know anything else. “Nothing,” you respond right away, hoping your deceit isn’t obvious in your wavering voice. “All I know is that he was trying to help me and Daryl and he wanted us to help him get rid of you.”

“Is he working with Rick? Did you see him at all while you were with them?” Negan wonders.

Nodding your head in confirmation, you can already see the wheels turning in Negan’s head. You watch his expression changing and darkening as you assume he’s putting the pieces together, his calculating mind easily coming up with an explanation you know he isn’t going to be happy with. You think he’s going to be angry when he speaks, but he isn’t and you wonder if maybe you’d been completely wrong about what Negan was thinking.

“Let’s talk about that,” he commands, changing the subject as he gestures to your side. “Don’t think I didn’t notice how you keep avoiding it. What happened?”

Negan’s calm voice confirms your belief that perhaps he hadn’t realized the significance of your run-in with Dwight at Alexandria. “I got stabbed when I went back,” you admit. “They wanted revenge for my betrayal. They wanted me dead.”

Hoping your admission prompts some sort of guilt in Negan, you inject as much sadness as you can into your words. You want him to feel bad that the games he played with you and your people almost got you killed. To be fair, it wasn’t even one of your own who stabbed you, but the blame is on Negan, regardless.

Showing almost no concern for what you went through, Negan scratches along the stubble covering his chin as he levels a piercing gaze at you. “I need to take care of Dwight. I had a suspicion his stupid ass was trying to sabotage me and this just confirms it.”

You share an extended look with Negan and you can tell he’s observing your face, trying to gauge your reaction to his response. You’re almost touched that Negan wants to make sure you’re not opposed to him harming someone, but in the back of your mind, you wonder if maybe he’s just looking for a spark of fear in your eyes; still wanting you to feel threatened by him and what he’s capable of.

Understanding that Negan has to do what he has to do, you feel not even an ounce of intimidation. Dwight deserves whatever Negan does to him and it’s not your place to stand up for the man. At least you can live with a clear conscience knowing that Negan isn’t going to punish Dwight for your sake; at least you can’t be blamed for whatever unfortunate fate befalls Dwight. You’re sure Negan isn’t going to kill him for his misdeed, most likely just imprison him for his mutinous behavior; killing the man is far too easy.

Shifting beneath the sheets, you groan in discomfort when you feel the drying stickiness of Negan’s seed where it had finally begun to seep from your body. You slip from the bed and grab Negan’s discarded shirt from the ground, using it to cover your body. He watches you closely and though you hope the shirt is long enough to cover your messy thighs, you know it isn’t when Negan’s eyes darken.

“Hope I didn’t knock you up,” he comments off-handedly. “Although if I haven’t by now, this time probably isn’t gonna be any different.”

A wave of nausea constricts your throat at the irony of Negan’s words. They’re a staunch reminder of all the things you’re still keeping from him. In a desperate attempt to escape the uncomfortable situation before you open your mouth and blurt something out, you ask Negan’s permission to take a shower. The moment he agrees, you practically sprint to the bathroom and lock the door behind you.

You wrench the shower dial, making the water as hot as possible before you step under the scalding spray. Grabbing the soap, you scrub hectically at your thighs, desperately trying to remove all evidence of last night from your skin. You continue your precarious cleansing, washing away the scent of sweat, sex, and Negan from your body, hoping it also washes away all your guilt and despair with it.

You’re careful to avoid getting your bandage wet, and the mere sight of it reminds you that it was your own decisions had led up to everything that caused that wound. Though you fight it, you burst into tears in the steamy shower. Trying to keep your sobs silent, you release all the emotions you’ve refused to let yourself feel. Your body shakes with the force of your quiet weeps as the water pounds against your back for a long while.

Knowing that Negan is probably growing impatient, you take a minute to calm yourself before you finish your shower and wrap a towel around your body. Stepping from the cubicle of the shower, you glance at your face in the mirror, observing your puffy eyes and reddened face. You approach the sink and quickly splash some cool water on your face, hoping to disguise the evidence of your mini breakdown. Giving your face a few more minutes to clear up, you exit the bathroom with only the towel around your damp body. Negan is still perched on the bed you’d left him in, though he’s dressed in a pair of dark pants and a black t-shirt now.

He glances up at you, a coldness in his eyes as he rubs a hand over his chin as if contemplating something. “You know what I’ve been thinkin’ about?” he asks rhetorically. “Your people were pissed at you for getting involved with me, but I don’t think it was enough to want you dead. And given the way a bunch of those dumb fuckers tried to keep me away from you, they were well on their way to forgiving you. They were protecting you.”

Your knuckles turn white with the force you use to clutch the towel around yourself. You can feel how your eyes are bulging and you know your guilty expression is telling Negan all he needs to know. You should’ve known he’s too sly to let anything get past him; of course he would be able to figure out the truth.

“And then I realized there’s only one asshole out there who would have motive to hurt or kill you,” Negan ponders airily, in a way so noncommittal and casual that it’s unnerving. “And _then_ I remembered that you said you saw that asshole while you were in Alexandria. You know the asshole I’m talking about, honey?”

Fighting back the fresh wave of tears that threaten to start falling, your lower lip quivers as you nod your head almost imperceptibly. Negan stands from the bed and begins moving towards you, filling you with the desire to flee. He reaches you quickly, his finger tucking under your chin to lift your gaze to him.

“It was Dwight, wasn’t it?” he whispers, voice dripping with irritation.

“Yes,” you murmur so lowly you’re unsure if Negan can even hear you.

You look down at the ground when Negan pushes away from you and strides across the room to slip his jacket over his shoulders. Now you know Dwight is in trouble; your belief that Negan won’t kill him is instantly shattered. As Negan paces across the room to grab his bat, you move out of the way and take a seat on the bed.

“You know…I asked if you knew anything else,” Negan barks as he whirls around to walk back towards where you’re sitting. “Lying by omission is still lying and you know how I feel about that, don’t you?”

Fear causes your body to shake and you grind your teeth, still holding back tears as you refuse to let yourself look weak in front of Negan. Deciding that Dwight’s fate has already been decided, you know the last bit of information you’ve withheld is the only thing you have to protect yourself from being punished for lying to Negan.

Just as he turns to stomp angrily from the room to hunt down Dwight, you make your move. “Negan,” you call timidly. “There’s something else you need to know.”

He glares at you over his shoulder, his upper lip twitching in anger as he debates whether whatever you have to say is worth listening to. After a moment of staring at him with sad, pleading eyes Negan relents, his bat swinging at his side as he strolls back to stand in front of you.

Suddenly terrified, you lick your dry lips and let out a shuddering breath as you try to find the words and the voice to utter them. The tears gathering in your eyes finally manage to spill over and Negan’s demeanor softens immediately as kneels in front of you and he watches the drops trail down your cheeks.

“What? What is it?” he prods louder than necessary, thick brows slammed down over his eyes with worried frustration. “You got me shittin’ my pants here, doll.”

“When I got stabbed…” you begin, halting to take a shaky breath. “When Dwight stabbed me, I was pregnant.”

The words sound deafening to your own ears as they seem to slip from your lips in slow motion. You can’t bring yourself to look at Negan’s reaction as the words dangle between you. Your fingers fiddle with the tattered hem of the towel tucked around your body and all you can hear are Negan’s heavy breaths in the tense silence of the room.

“You _were_ pregnant?” he implores tersely, studying your face as you merely nod your head in response. “As in past tense?”

Sensing Negan’s blossoming anger, you begin to cry harder as you fear for your own safety. Somehow you think he’s going to spin this to make it your fault; he’s going to punish you for it, perhaps even kill you. When you finally dare to look at the crouched man in front of you, you’re shaken by the blazing rage you see bubbling in his golden eyes.

“Was it mine?” he snarls with frightening venom.

You’re unable to respond, but a hiccupping sob escapes you and that’s all the answer Negan requires, apparently. The moment he hears your cry, he’s on his feet with his bat in hand, swinging at anything within reach. The bat smashes the lamp on the bedside table, showering the ground with a spray of ceramic shards.

“Fuck!” Negan screams, aiming the bat at the nearest wall and denting the plaster with ease as he hits it repeatedly.

Stunned by his volatile reaction, you back up over the mattress and press your back against the pillows, shielding your face with your hands. You cry harder, overwhelmed by so many emotions that you’re not even sure what you’re feeling anymore. The sound of your distress eventually catches Negan’s attention and he ceases his destructive path around the room. Seeming to remember that this doesn’t only affect him, he drops the bat with a clatter and strides speedily towards you.

“Fuck,” he hisses, yanking your body towards him so swiftly and pressing your face to his chest so firmly it’s nearly painful. “Are you okay?”

You don’t know if Negan really cares or if he’s just asking for the sake of asking, but the gently-spoken phrase sets you off. “No, I’m not fucking okay,” you sob, burying your face in the material of Negan’s shirt.

After bottling everything up since Dwight had stabbed you, telling Negan about it and letting it all out is cathartic, though now you can’t seem to stop yourself from crying. You swore you hadn’t been affected by the loss of your pregnancy, but you realize now how wrong you were. Though you take comfort in the fact that you hadn’t brought a life into this shitty world you live in, it doesn’t diminish the pain of the loss. Seeing Negan so affected by the loss has finally made you realize that it had affected you just as much.

“I wasn’t far enough along for it to be a kid,” you blubber, still using that justification to lessen your burden.

“I don’t fuckin’ care,” Negan growls, petting your head and rocking you back and forth to soothe you. “I’m gonna fuckin’ kill that motherfucker.”

Negan pulls away from you then, his face a stony display of rage and loathing. He sweeps his thumbs under your eyes, wiping away your tears. Leaning forward, he presses a quick kiss to your forehead before getting up to retrieve his bat.

“I’m sorry to leave you like this, but I gotta fuckin’ find him,” he states. “Stay here. I’ll be back soon.”

With that, he glides from the room, moving with determination as he leaves you. You barely refrain from calling out to Negan and telling him to be careful; as much as Dwight’s hatred for Negan is going to make him dangerous, it’s nothing compared to the shitstorm of blistering rage Negan possesses right now. Wiping the back of your hand over your tear-streaked face, you have nothing else to do but settle in to wait — and hope — for Negan’s return.

• • • • • • • • • •

You’re curled up on the couch with a book in your lap and your heavy head cradled in your palm when Negan finally returns. He’s much later than you expect and the moment you hear movement outside the door, you spring to your feet. Negan steps into the darkened room and you meet him at the door before he even has a chance to close it, glad that he’s made it back alive.

The streaks of blood covering his face are obvious even in the poor lighting and you’re relieved to see that none of it seems to belong to Negan. Glancing over his body, you can’t find any injuries aside from his bloody knuckles. He reaches behind him to prop his bat against the wall, the movement shifting his jacket and causing the light from the single lamp lit in the room to reflect off the blood splatters covering the leather.

His face is tense and angry and his eyes give away the remaining rage that still burdens him even after taking care of the problem. Disregarding the consequences, you reach for Negan and wrap your arms around his waist, pressing your body against his.

“Fuck, I’m…” he begins before sighing in frustration and wrapping his arms around your shoulders, “…covered in blood.”

Ignoring the moisture soaking into your own t-shirt, you revel in the warmth of Negan’s embrace. You don’t even care that he’d just killed someone, because he’d done it for you. Perhaps it isn’t a gesture you should necessarily appreciate, but it certainly makes up for at least some of what Negan has made you suffer through. Maybe you aren’t quite ready to forgive him, but this is definitely a step in the right direction.

“Thank you,” you mumble into Negan’s chest.

He threads his fingers through your hair, playing with the soft tresses of it until you finally release your hold around him. “I should get cleaned up,” he grunts, stepping back to look down at you. “Now I guess you have to, too.”

Glancing down at yourself as well, you cringe at the blood stains covering the front of your shirt and the red streaks painted across your bare arms. Negan tilts his head towards the bathroom, directing you to go in as he heads towards his dresser and yanks the drawers open.

Not waiting for Negan, you shed your clothing quickly and start the shower before hopping in. Figuring all you need is a quick rinse and you’ll be in and out before Negan shows up, you clean the blood stains from your arms with haste. Just before you reach out to turn off the tap, you hear the sound of Negan humming lowly as he joins you in the shower. You freeze where you stand, unsure how to react to Negan’s presence and how vulnerable you feel.

He steps close behind you, the warmth of his hands sliding down your sides to grip your hips. Suddenly nervous about the intimacy of the situation, you swallow thickly, eyes staring straight ahead at the dewy drops of water covering the gray tiles in front of you. Just as your pulse begins to pick up, Negan uses his hold on you to gently shift you out of his way as he maneuvers his tall form under the hot spray of water. The water sluices over his filthy skin, dripping off his muscular body and swirling around the drain in a grotesque blend of reds and browns.

For a moment you feel foolish for misreading the situation until Negan turns to face you. The heat in his eyes tells that you your initial assumption about the mood between you had been accurate. Water cascades over Negan’s face, dripping off the point of his nose and beading up in his short beard. With a wicked smirk and a quirked brow, he reaches for you again, pulling you up against him. Your breath hitches when he leans towards you, his lips mere inches from your own.

“Can you pass me the soap?” he teases with a devious whisper.

It takes you a moment to register Negan’s words and realize he’s poking fun at you. Before you have a chance to be offended by Negan’s taunting, he has your back pressed against the humid tile, his hips bumping against yours. The growing tension has your blood pumping all over again and your lips part as Negan’s hand drifts over your hip, his fingers ghosting over your mound.

A tiny, weak gasp escapes you when Negan’s long fingers slip over your damp skin and venture between your slick folds. The tip of one finger grazes your already swollen clit and the minimal contact is enough to send a rush of arousal blazing through your body. Bracing one palm beside your head, Negan’s hand works diligently between your thighs, two fingers swirling over your entrance as his thumb teases your clit.

The cunning smile remains firmly on Negan’s handsome face, victory shining in his tawny eyes as you turn to putty in his hands. He plunges one finger and then another into your dripping core, wrenching a pleasured moan from your throat. Negan crooks his fingers inside you and you barely manage to stay upright as your knees grow weak.

Just as Negan has you on the edge of your orgasm, he halts the delicious movements of his fingers as he drops to one knee in front of you. All air rushes from your lungs as his lips brush along your inner thigh, his beard burning across the delicate flesh. His tongue licks a hot stripe up your leg before sliding between the lips of your drenched pussy. Slurping obscenely, Negan buries his face between your thighs and groans appreciatively.

“If I knew how sweet you’d taste, I would’ve done this a hell of a lot sooner,” he quips with a dirty grin.

Delving back into your core, Negan works you higher and higher with both his mouth and his fingers. Your thighs are quivering in no time and you dig your fingers through Negan’s thick, dark hair as you grind shamelessly against his face. Your cries of ecstasy only seem to spur Negan on as he drives his thick digits faster into your slippery channel, his tongue flicking speedily over your sensitive bud. When you’re about to reach the crest of your climax and your walls clench around Negan’s soaked fingers, he pulls his mouth away to bark a command up at you.

“Cum for me, honey,” he grunts, the low, gravelly tone of his voice pushing you over the edge.

With a strangled squeak, you toss your head back and your mouth falls open as your orgasm sweeps through you. Your fingers tighten in Negan’s hair, prompting him to growl in discomfort as you tug the short strands. His fingers pump tirelessly, working you through your release as he laps up every drop of fluid that seeps from your center. When the stimulation of Negan’s tongue gets to be too much, you yank his mouth away from your swollen flesh and earn an annoyed snarl in the process.

As the last of your orgasm ripples through your muscles, Negan eases his fingers from inside you and brings them to his mouth. Sucking them clean, he stands at his full height, looking down at you as your chest heaves. He grasps your jaw, pulling your lips to his as he plants a firm kiss on your mouth. His tongue slips between your lips, the flavor of him mingling with the taste of your own arousal. Negan moans against your mouth, the sound resonating from his chest as he pushes his erection against the softness of your belly.

Without a second thought, your hand fits between your bodies and you wrap your palm around Negan’s hardness. He groans at the contact of your hand, his hips tilting towards you as your fist moves along his hot, solid length. Negan’s lips latch onto the side of your neck and he uses his grip on your jaw to tilt your head to the side and cover your flesh in a series of sharp bites. His hot breath puffs across your skin when you sweep your thumb over the head of his cock, dragging the drop of pre-cum along the thick vein spanning his length.

“Fuck,” Negan breathes, his lips trailing over your shoulder as his hands reach up and slip over the surface of the tile behind you.

Encouraged by his heady sounds, you twist your fist around Negan’s dick, working your other hand over him as well until he’s growling into your ear and his body tenses beneath your touch. It takes only a few more seconds of your ministrations before Negan is vibrating with need as his orgasm approaches. He removes one hand from the shower wall and wraps it lightly around your throat, pressing his nose against your cheek as he holds your face close to his own.

His hips lurch towards you, abs clenching as he cums with a long, low howl. His release explodes over your hand in several warm streams, some of it landing in thick drops on your stomach. Your hands continue slicking over Negan’s length as he rides out his orgasm, panting heavily as he slumps against you and crushes you with his weight. As he begins to soften in your hand, you release your hold on him and squeeze past Negan’s body to rinse off in the tepid water still flowing from the showerhead.

Negan joins you under the spray of the water, wrapping an arm around your waist and leaning over your shoulder to place several chaste kisses along your jawline. “Good girl,” he praises raspily.

The tone of Negan’s voice sends a shiver through you and the goosebumps along your arms are due only in part to the temperature of the water streaming over you. Wanting to get out of the cool water, you and Negan quickly lather up and rinse off before it grows uncomfortably cold. When you step out of the shower, Negan wraps a soft towel around your body, swaddling you in the terrycloth before wrapping a towel around his own waist.

Spotting a pile of assorted clothing scattered on the counter, you hope Negan had grabbed something for you to change into. Digging through the material, you locate a pair of plain panties and hastily slip them up and over your hips. Dropping the towel from over your shoulders, you smile shyly as Negan picks up one of his clean shirts and wrestles it over your head. As the material falls over your smaller frame, Negan’s eyes land on your injured hip and his lips lift in a grimace.

“When’s the last time you changed that? You can probably take this shit off,” he states, picking at the edges of the soggy bandage that’s beginning to hang uselessly from your hip. “It’s like a band-aid…you leave it on too long and it starts to smell like foot cheese and shit. Then it gets all infected and you start leakin’ green shit,” he laments with a shudder.

You can’t help smirking at Negan’s antics as you hold your shirt up and he pulls your bandage off. You flinch a bit when the sticky tape gets caught on your skin, though Negan rips it right off, assuring you it’s better to do it quickly. Something about Negan’s tender attentiveness is endearing and you find yourself smiling down at him.

As Negan pulls a bottle of rubbing alcohol from the cabinet to clean your wound, he spots your affectionate expression and squints suspiciously at you as he works. With a face of determined concentration, he cleanses the stitched stab wound and the skin around it before standing with a victorious smile. Tossing the soiled bandage into the garbage, he pats your hip as he looks down at you.

“That should do it,” he announces, studying his handiwork. “It’s almost healed. Leave that shit uncovered, let it air out. There’s only one place I want you oozin’ from, and that wound ain’t it.”

“Thanks, Doc,” you mutter with a disgusted scowl as Negan gently lowers the hem of the over-sized shirt over your lower half.

He steps away and tosses his own towel on the ground before pulling on a pair of underwear and then returning to where you’re leaning against the vanity. Standing before you, Negan brackets your face with both hands, forcing you to look at him.

“Hey…everything’s gonna be okay,” he assures you before pressing a forceful kiss to your lips.

With a quick wink and a sly smile, Negan leaves the bathroom, obviously expecting you to follow him out. You remain still for a moment longer, considering his words.

You’re not entirely sure what exactly he’s referring to, but you know you find comfort in the sincerity of the statement. You have one less thing to worry about now and with Negan trying his best to protect you and show you that he has no interest in making your life miserable, you wonder if perhaps you can let your walls down and get used to this.


	20. Money Shot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You accept your new life at the Sanctuary with Negan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This is a re-post as I previously deleted this story and it also appears on AO3 as an orphaned work.)

**mo·ney shot /ˈmənē SHät/**  
_**noun**_  
**1\. A key shot in a pool game that, if pocketed, will usually result in a victory.**

The bubble of tentative happiness prompted by Negan’s return and the intimate moments you’ve just shared still encapsulates you when you finally retire to the confines of his room. You find Negan seated on the couch in only his boxers, picking at a tray of food set atop the coffee table. Negan beckons you over and you obey, crossing the room to join him. As you move past Negan to take a seat on the floor in front of the couch, his fingertips brush lightly over the side of your bare thigh.

Crossing your legs, you rest your elbows on the table and pluck a morsel of food from the tray before popping it into your mouth. You flip your damp hair out of your face and dig into the tray of food, not realizing quite how hungry you are. Negan watches you devour the food, smirking at how you seem completely unconcerned with his presence behind you. Grabbing a roll off the tray, he bites into it as he shifts beside you.

“Aren’t you gonna ask me about my day?” he mumbles around a mouthful of dry bread. “It was pretty exciting…thought you’d be interested.”

Pausing mid-chew, you angle your body to glance at Negan who merely smiles down at you. “What happened?”

You hadn’t been particularly concerned with the details of where Negan had been or what he’d done today; all you know is that he took care of the problem and that’s all you need to know. You don’t care for specifics about how he’d decided to handle Dwight. The knowledge that he’s gone had been more than enough for you.

“Dwighty Boy hasn’t been home in a while, so I had to go elsewhere to track him down,” Negan begins, settling comfortably against the back of the couch as he rests his ankle over the opposite knee. “Had to go knockin’ on your old pal Rick’s door.”

“Did you hurt them?” you hiss immediately upon hearing that he’d returned to Alexandria. “Negan, you agreed you wouldn’t hurt them.”

Negan sits up them, leaning over to look you in the eyes as he lifts his palms in surrender. “Easy, girl. I didn’t harm a single graying hair on Ricky’s head. Or anyone else’s for that matter. Turns out Alexandria was less than pleased when they found out what Dwight did to their boy Daryl. They were happy to send him back home where he belongs.”

Negan’s victorious and wicked grin raises the hairs on your arm and you can only imagine how giddy he’d been to have Dwight handed over to him like that. You sit silently, waiting for Negan to continue regaling you with details of his day.

“Me and Dwight spent some quality time together, I think we really bonded,” Negan smirks. “I made him pay for what he did. Every bit of pain he caused you…I made sure he felt it ten times over. I made sure he suffered.“

You know the discomfort shows on your face when Negan says that and you glance down at your lap. Knowing what he’s capable of, you don’t even want to think about what exactly Negan had done to Dwight. For him to admit that Dwight suffered, you know it had to have been brutal. Trying not to let that fact bother you, you look back up at Negan as his voice takes on a cold edge.

"I know I said I wouldn’t, but I owe you an apology. It’s my fault you were ever in a position for Dwight to hurt you. And he did something that even I find unacceptable,” Negan growls as he holds your gaze. “It was different when he was doin’ shit I asked him to do. When he goes behind my back and hurts what’s mine…well, that shit just isn’t cool with me. Not one fuckin’ bit. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

Nodding your head, you swallow around the lump forming in your throat. You can’t help the moisture that collects in your eyes when you finally hear Negan apologizing to you. Everything between you had gotten so fucked up and things happened that never should have, but Negan acknowledging his part in the pain you’ve suffered makes you feel just the slightest bit better.

“I’m sorry about the…” you mutter, gesturing to your abdomen, though you’re unable to get the words out.

Negan leans further forward, snatching your jaw and pulling your face towards him. “Do _not_ apologize for that,” he barks. “That wasn’t your fault, don’t you dare take the blame for it. Don’t apologize to me for that or for anything…you don’t owe me shit.”

A tense silence surrounds you as Negan holds you in place, staring you down until he’s sure you understand. He releases you and sits back, sighing deeply. You pull your knees up to your chest and wrap your arms around your shins, unsure where to go from here. Figuring you have nothing to lose, you decide you want some answers.

“Can I ask you something?” you prompt, peering up at Negan from beneath your lashes.

“Shoot,” he states as he pats the cushion next to him and invites you to sit beside him on the couch.

You climb onto the leather sofa, though you leave some space between yourself and Negan, pressing your back against the opposite arm of the couch and facing him where he sits. “What was it that you saw in me? I know you said you did all that stuff because you wanted to break me and make me yours, but why?” you ponder. “You told me if I tried to get away from you, you’d leave me for dead, but you didn’t.”

“I guess I did say that, didn’t I?” Negan muses, tilting his head back and dragging his hand across his jaw. He snorts softly to himself before he responds. “It’s because you scare the shit outta me, doll.”

“What do you mean?” you wonder as your brow bunches in confusion.

Negan takes a deep breath, carefully considering his words before he shifts his weight to fully face you. 

“All that shit that I had to do for you to finally be afraid of me? Most people would’ve been shaking in their boots at the mere sight of me. Hell, most of my own men are terrified of me for much less reason. But not you,” he commends. “No…you were ready to take me out every time you got the chance and you certainly tried. I spent all that time trying to break you, but you’re one tough bitch. Maybe I just should’ve tried convincing you to switch teams. You could be deadly working by my side.”

You know that’s high praise coming from Negan; for him to have enough respect to want you on his side means a lot. Though you shouldn’t feel good about having the approval of someone you once considered the enemy, you can’t deny the pride you feel in your ability to impress Negan.

A pang of guilt tugs at your heart when you recall all the things you’d had to withstand and how hard you had fought to protect your people only to end up back where you started. You admit that you made the decision to return more out of concern for your own well-being, but part of the decision had been in the interest of keeping Alexandria out of Negan’s crosshairs. Knowing that you’ll likely never see Rick or any other member of your community ever again, you suppose you have no real reason to feel guilty for turning back to Negan.

“Do you think I’m a bad person?” you query. “For leaving my people behind?”

“Honey, I’m not exactly the poster child for morality and common decency here,” Negan scoffs, scratching absently at his bare chest before taking your question more seriously. “Listen…it’s the end of the world, sweetheart. It’s every man for himself out there. There’s no room for feelings and righteousness anymore. You did what you had to to protect your own ass and I can tell you right now, any other motherfucker is gonna do the same thing. You can’t beat yourself up for wanting to survive. You aren’t wrong for wanting to be somewhere safe where you’re protected.”

Realizing Negan is right, you bury your feelings of regret, reassuring yourself that at least Alexandria is safe even if they do consider your choices a betrayal. You did what you thought was best for everyone involved, though it’s not as if you had many options anyway.

After a few minutes of contemplative silence, Negan rises from the couch and crosses the room. Pulling on a pair of clean pants and a t-shirt, he grabs his boots before tossing a pair of leggings in your direction. You catch the material, eyeing Negan suspiciously as he slips his shoes on.

“Come with me, I wanna show you something,” Negan prompts, curling his fingers in a silent command for you to follow him.

You remain where you are, apprehensive about going anywhere with Negan. Considering where he’d been all day and what he’d been doing, you’re not sure you want to see anything he has to offer. Sensing your hesitation, Negan’s lips lift into a crooked smirk. He circles back around and approaches you where you sit, holding his hand out to you. You accept, allowing him to lift you to your feet and press your body against his.

“What’s wrong?” he teases, his hot breath swirling over your face. “You look like you’re afraid I’m gonna drag you to the basement and bash your skull in with Lucille.”

Laughing nervously, you clutch the leggings to your chest and try to relax in Negan’s tight embrace. “Aren’t you?” you joke.

“Aw, c'mon, baby. You know Lucille likes you,” he whispers hotly. “She likes you a whole lot as far as I remember.”

You ignore the warmth that swirls in your belly at Negan’s deep voice and the reminder of just how well acquainted he’d gotten you and Lucille. Pressing a hand to the center of his chest, you push away slightly and look up at him. Based on the smug grin dimpling his cheeks, you know Negan is reveling in his ability to make you squirm.

“Okay…what do you have to show me?” you croak, trying to extract yourself from Negan’s arms.

“Just a little something I brought back from my trip to Alexandria,” he announces as he finally lets you go. “Sort of a gift, I guess.”

Raising your eyebrows, you quickly slip on the leggings Negan has given you before taking your shoes from his outstretched hand. Now dressed, you follow Negan out of his room and down the hallway.

“A gift? For me?” you question skeptically.

“Yes, ma'am,” Negan confirms, slowing down a bit so he can throw his arm over your shoulders. “I know I can’t change the past, but I’m sure I can do a little sucking up until you forgive me, right?”

Taken off guard by the sincerity of Negan’s words, you merely nod your head as he leads you down the hall. When you reach the set of double doors, you realize they’re vaguely familiar. Recalling this room from when you’d first arrived at the Sanctuary, you remember this had been where Negan kept his harem of wives.

Hoping they don’t still live here, you brace yourself as Negan removes his arm from your shoulders and swings both doors inward. You’re surprised to find that the dimly-lit room is mostly empty. Almost all the furniture has been removed, save for one couch. You step further into the room and it’s then you realize the couch isn’t the only object in the room. Your eyes drift to the far side of the open space, locking onto a long, large shape and you exhale in disbelief.

There sits none other than the infamous pool table from the night you’d initially encountered Negan. You remember the game when he’d killed Spencer for trying to overthrow Rick as well as the game you had shared with him where halfway through, you attempted to kill him for the first time. Recalling that night, you think about how Negan had bent you over the table and made you cum before using you to get himself off; your thighs clench involuntarily at the sinful memory.

You can hardly believe that Negan had chosen to bring the pool table here, though when he sidles up next to you, his motives are evident. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he turns your body so your ass presses against him, his arousal obvious even through the material of his pants. He places a wet kiss on your neck before raising his lips and nipping at your ear.

“What do you say we finally finish that game, sugar?” he purrs smoothly, his silky words washing over you and ultimately convincing you to give in.


End file.
